HIS 
TO  POWER 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT  OF 

Mrs.  Ben  B.  Lindsey 


!  Why  didn't  you  take  me — in  spite  of  myself !  " 


HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 


BY 
Henry  Russell  Miller 


AUTHOR  OF 
THE  MAN  HIGHER  UP 


With  Illustrations  by 

M.  Leone  Bracker 


N  EW    YORK 

GROSSET    &    DUNLAP 

PUBLISH  E  RS 


COPYRIGHT  1911 
THE  BOBBS-MERRILL  COMPANY 


CONTENTS 


BOOK  I 
A  VOICE  IN  THE  WILDERNESS 

CHAPTER  PAG8 

I    MISTS  OF  THE  MORNING  ......  i 

II    MIRAGE  IN  THE  DESERT 2 

III  SUNSET 3* 

IV  THE  NAZARITE   ........  49 

V    EXPLORATIONS 68 

VI    THE  CALL 88 

VII    THE  WILDERNESS  ROAD 104 

VIII    ACROSS  THE  BORDER 117 

IX    THE  CRUSADER 126 

X    CRITICISMS  AND  WILES 138 

XI    THE  PICKET        .    ' 148 

XII    APPLES  OF  EDEN .  162 

XIII  THE  PRIME  MINISTER 178 

XIV  WITH  A  GREAT  PRICE 192 

BOOK  II 
FIGS  AND  THISTLES 

XV    LOCUSTS  AND  WILD  HONEY      .....  205 

XVI    THE  FORERUNNER      .......  222 

XVII    THE  FORK  OF  THE  ROAD 237 

XVIII    HISTORY 250 

XIX    A  DESERTED  JORDAN 269 


11G6201 


> 


CONTENTS—  Continued 

CHAPTER  PAGB 

XX    SHADOWS 282 

XXI    GOLDEN  FLEECE 293 

XXII    THE  HONEY  POT 3°6 

XXIII  THE  VULNERABLE  HEEL 318 

XXIV  WHO  PAYS  ? 33° 

XXV    THE  BIG  LIFE 344 

XXVI    SILENCED 363 

XXVII    THE  PRICE 372 


BOOK  ONE 
A  VOICE  FROM  THE  WILDERNESS 


HIS   RISE  TO  POWER 

CHAPTER  I 

MISTS  OF  THE  MORNING 

IT  was  twilight  still  in  the  valley,  but  over  the  hills 
to  the  east  the  sky  was  whitening.  A  young  man 
sitting  by  his  window  turned  to  see  the  birth  of  an 
other  day.  Throughout  the  night  he  had  been  staring 
at  a  vision.  But  weariness  had  set  no  mark  upon 
him.  His  vision  he  did  not  understand,  save  that 
for  him  it  spelled  Opportunity  —  a  chance  to  put 
into  a  drifting,  rather  ordinary  existence,  purposeful 
action,  to  stretch  his  muscles,  rack  his  brain  and  tear 
his  soul  in  the  struggle  that  is  the  life  of  men.  He 
was  thirty  years  old,  imaginative  and  enthusiastic ;  the 
fascination  of  the  unknown  caught  him.  With  the 
prodigal  courage  of  youth  he  burned  to  begin  the 
struggle,  to  test  his  untried  strength.  His  fine  face, 
sensitive  to  the  play  of  inner  emotion,  lighted  up 
eagerly.  A  premonitory  thrill  passed  over  him.  He 
had  the  feeling  that  in  this  new  day  something  big, 
portentous,  transforming,  awaited  him.  He  watched 
until  the  vague  black  mass  looming  before  him  took 
form  as  the  blue-green  hills  that  he  knew. 

I 


2  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

"  Like  order  coming  out  of  chaos." 

He  caught  up  a  rough  towel  and  stealing  quietly 
out  of  the  house  walked  rapidly  down  the  street. 
When  the  straggling  town  lay  behind  him,  he  broke 
into  a  slow  trot,  padding  along  over  the  road  with  its 
velvety  layer  of  mist-laid  dust,  until  he  was  breathing 
heavily  and  the  sweat  had  started.  At  a  place  where 
many  feet  had  worn  a  path  across  a  clover  meadow 
he  turned  from  the  road.  The  path  ended  at  a  clump 
of  bushes  on  the  river  bank  where  the  shallow  Wee- 
hannock,  suddenly  deepening,  had  formed  a  swim 
ming-hole  for  generations  of  youths. 

Hastily  undressing,  he  plunged  into  the  green 
depths  from  which  June  had  not  quite  taken  the  chill 
of  spring.  His  lithe,  strong  body  responded  to  the 
shock;  the  nerves,  harried  by  the  long  night  watch, 
relaxed;  he  shouted  lustily.  For  a  few  minutes  he 
swam  vigorously,  diving  and  turning  somersaults, 
frolicsome  as  a  school-boy,  reveling  in  his  strength 
and  skill;  then  he  turned  on  his  back  and  floated  with 
the  lazy  current  until  little  shivers  began  to  ripple  over 
him.  Reaching  the  shore,  he  took  the  towel  and 
rubbed  himself  into  a  glow.  He  tingled  with  a  sense 
of  well-being. 

When  he  was  dressed  again,  refreshed  and  eager  for 
his  day,  he  took  the  path  back  to  the  highway.  The 
sun  was  climbing  over  the  hills.  He  stopped  and 
watched  it  while  it  swung  clear  in  the  sky,  gleaming  a 
fiery  red  through  the  mists  of  the  valley.  A  gentle 
breeze  sprang  up  and  sent  the  gray  vapor  streaming 
and  billowing  away  into  nothingness.  The  red  of  the 
sun  became  the  hot,  white  blaze  of  molten  iron.  The 
glory  of  the  morning  was  complete. 


MISTS  OF  THE  MORNING  3 

He  was  about  to  resume  his  tramp  homeward  when 
he  beheld  a  strange  procession  advancing  along  the 
road,  a  young  woman  leading  a  limping  horse.  As 
she  came  nearer,  he  chuckled  aloud.  The  handsome 
pigskin  saddle,  the  ivory-handled  crop,  the  modish 
riding-suit  and  boots  were  not  the  equipment  with 
which  young  ladies  of  New  Chelsea  were  wont  to 
ride;  the  hat  was  of  the  sort  seen  thereabouts  only 
as  the  crowning  glory  of  the  circus  equestrienne.  But 
for  the  matter  of  that,  feminine  New  Chelsea  had  not 
the  habit  of  matutinal  exercise. 

She  heard  him  and  looked  up  coldly;  the  chuckle 
died  instantly. 

"  Good  morning,"  he  said.  "  What's  the  matter 
with  your  horse  ?  Can  I  help  you  ?  " 

She  stopped.  "  He  has  picked  up  a  stone,"  she  an 
swered,  "  and  I  can't  get  it  out.  If  you  will  be  so 
good—" 

He  vaulted  lightly  over  the  fence  that  bounded  the 
meadow  and  tried  to  remove  the  offending  stone  with 
his  fingers.  This  method  proving  ineffective,  he  went 
to  a  near-by  tree  and  broke  off  a  branch,  the  thick 
end  of  which  he  whittled  into  a  rude  sort  of  wedge. 
With  this  primitive  implement  he  quickly  abstracted 
the  stone.  The  horse,  a  splendid  chestnut,  pawed  the 
ground  gingerly  with  the  hurt  foot. 

"  Thank  you,"  the  young  woman  said. 

"  You're  quite  welcome,"  he  answered.  "  I'm  al- 
;ways  glad  to  help  beauty  in  distress.  He  is  a  beauti 
ful  animal,  isn't  he?"  he  added  hastily. 

"Are  you  charring  me?"  she  asked  coldly. 

He  repressed  a  smile.  "  By  no  means !  Better  not 
ride  him  for  a  little  bit,  until  we  see  how  he  walks." 


4  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

She  resumed  her  walk,  leading  the  horse,  which 
still  limped  slightly.  The  young  man  kept  pace  with 
her. 

"  You  ride  early,"  he  ventured. 

"  No  earlier  than  you  —  swim,"  she  replied  briefly, 
glancing  at  his  wet  hair  and  towel.  He  at  once  be 
came  uncomfortably  conscious  of  his  rather  unkempt 
appearance. 

"  Are  you  staying  in  New  Chelsea?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Surely  not  at  the  hotel ! " 

"  No." 

"  Shall  you  stay  long?  " 

"  Are  you  in  the  habit  of  cross-examining  strangers 
on  the  road  ?  "  she  inquired  frigidly. 

He  reddened.  "  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said,  and 
slackened  his  pace  to  let  her  draw  ahead. 

A  hundred  yards  farther  on  she  stopped  and  waited 
for  him  to  overtake  her.  He  thought  he  detected  an 
amused  gleam  in  her  eyes  and  the  red  deepened.  But 
the  twinkle  died  instantly. 

"  I  think  I'll  ride  now,"  she  said,  "  if  you  will  help 
me  up.  Crusader  has  stopped  limping." 

He  held  out  his  hand,  she  placed  a  foot  in  it  and 
was  lifted  to  the  saddle.  She  murmured  her  thanks. 
But,  although  she  gathered  in  the  reins,  she  did  not 
start  away.  For  a  moment  she  sat  looking  at  the 
hills,  apparently  oblivious  of  the  young  man's  pres 
ence.  He  wondered  who  she  was,  this  well-tailored, 
well-cared  for,  well-poised  young  lady  who  had  so 
suddenly  appeared  out  of  the  mists  of  the  morning, 
exuding  amid  the  place  and  hour  an  air  of  artificial 


MISTS  OF  THE  MORNING  5 

luxury  —  and  yet,  oddly  enough,  without  seeming 
wholly  incongruous. 

"  If  it  weren't  for  that  absurd  hat!  "  he  sighed  in 
wardly. 

He  ventured  again.  "  Why  do  you  call  him  Cru 
sader?" 

She  looked  down  at  him.  "Another  question? 
You  are  incorrigible." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said  again  stiffly.  And 
marched  up  the  road. 

"  I  have  named  him  that,"  she  called  after  him, 
"  because  he  has  plenty  of  fire  and  spirit,  but  at  crit 
ical  times  seems  to  lack  common  sense."  She 
laughed,  a  free,  musical  laugh  that  somehow  recalled 
the  blood  to  his  cheeks.  He  made  no  reply. 

She  watched  him  as  he  swung  along,  frankly  ad 
miring  the  tall,  cleanly-built  figure  whose  lines  the 
loose  coat  he  wore  did  not  conceal.  She  remem 
bered  the  end  of  the  big  game  eight  years  before, 
when  a  laughing,  mud-stained  young  athlete  tore  him 
self  away  from  his  idolatrous  companions  to  lay  his 
triumph  at  the  feet  of  the  day's  sweetheart.  She  re 
membered  also,  with  a  smile,  the  stabbing  childish 
jealousy  with  which  a  freckle-faced,  short-skirted  girl 
had  witnessed  his  devotion. 

"  And  you're  still  here,  buried  alive  in  this  out-of- 
the-way  corner  of  the  world,"  she  said  softly.  "  O, 
John  Dunmeade !  John  Dunmeade !  " 

Suddenly  she  touched  her  horse  with  the  crop.  He 
bounded  forward  and  clattered  along  until  the  young 
man  was  overtaken.  She  pulled  Crusader  down  to  a 
walk,  at  which  the  young  man  looked  up  astonished. 


6  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

"  You  left  in  quite  a  hurry,"  she  said  demurely. 
"  I  suppose  you're  getting  hungry,  aren't  you  ?  " 

"  I  never  care  to  be  snubbed  more  than  twice  be 
fore  breakfast,"  he  answered  dryly. 

"Oh!     Did  I  snub  you?" 

"  I  was  under  that  impression." 

"  But  confess,"  she  urged,  "  you  were  about  to  com 
ment  on  the  beauty  of  the  morning." 

"  Do  you  think  you  are  the  only  one  who  can  really 
enjoy  the  sunrise?"  he  retorted.  Then  he  laughed, 
"But  I  was  rather  —  banal,  wasn't  I?" 

She  nodded.  "  It's  a  horrid  word  —  but  I'm  afraid 
you  were." 

Curious  as  to  her  identity,  but  fearing  another  re 
proof,  he  cautiously  refrained  from  further  speech. 

They  went  along  in  silence,  until  they  reached  a 
point  where  the  undulating  road  rose  to  command  a 
view  of  the  valley  to  the  south  and  the  town  to  the 
north.  She  reined  in  her  horse. 

"  What  a  pity  one  can't  find  words  for  such  a 
morning!  And  the  wonder  of  it  is  that  it  has  re 
curred  we  don't  know  how  many  millions  of  times, 
always  glorious." 

"  It  makes  one  feel  a  bit  —  reverent  — " 

" — and  at  the  same  time  uplifted — ' 

" —  and  small,"  he  concluded.  "  What  a  jumble  of 
emotions ! " 

"  I  hate  to  feel  small,  but  it's  true.  One  realizes 
as  at  no  other  time  that  the  great  fundamental  forces 
are  eternally  at  work.  One  feels  as  helpless  as  — " 
She  paused  for  lack  of  a  comparison. 

"  As  helpless  as  some  chick  will  soon  feel,  unless 
the  farmer's  dog  scares  off  that  hawk,"  he  completed 


7. 

the  sentence  for  her,  pointing.  Over  a  barnyard  in 
the  valley  the  big  bird  was  soaring  in  narrowing,  low 
ering  circles.  From  beneath  came  faintly  the  cries 
of  frightened  fowls.  Suddenly  the  hawk  swooped 
low  to  the  earth.  Scarcely  pausing,  it  soared  aloft 
once  more,  leaving  panic  in  the  barnyard  and  one  chick 
the  less. 

The  young  woman  laughed.  "  There's  an  illustra 
tion  of  one  fundamental  law." 

"The  supremacy  of  the  strong?  That's  an  old 
theory,  I  know.  A  very  pretty  one  —  from  the  point 
of  view  of  the  hawk.  But  how  about  the  chick?  " 

"  O,  if  one  is  born  a  chick — "  She  concluded  the 
sentence  with  a  shrug  of  her  shoulders. 

He  looked  up  at  her  curiously.     "  You  are  frank." 

"  Isn't  that  what  the  hawk's  strength  is  for  ?  "  she 
demanded. 

"  I  suppose  it  is." 

"  Strength,"  she  declared  sagely,  "  is  the  most  splen 
did  thing  in  life." 

"That  depends  on  how  it  is  used,  doesn't  it?" 

"  It  doesn't  depend.  Strength  is  its  own  law. 
Hasn't  the  world  always  been  conquered  and  ruled 
by  its  strong?  " 

"  I'm  afraid  that  is  true,"  he  said  soberly. 

"  Afraid !  I  should  think  you  would  be  glad,  since> 
• —  I  have  it  from  the  New  Chelsea  Globe  —  you  are 
a  strong  man." 

He  looked  his  astonishment.  "  You  know  who  I 
am !  " 

"  Of  course!  Did  you  think,  Mr.  Dunmeade,"  she 
laughed,  "  did  you  think  your  charms  outweighed  the 
conventions?  I  am  not  a  barbarian,  in  the  habit  of 


8  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

philosophizing  with  strange  young  men  on  the  road 
before  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning." 

"  What  did  you  read  in  the  Globe? " 

"  The  vanity  of  men!  I  read,  '  Mr.  Dunmeade  will 
undoubtedly  make  a  strong  candidate.  The  entire 
county  wants  him.  It  will  have  him.'  It  reads  like 
a  patent  medicine  advertisement,  doesn't  it?  How 
does  it  feel  to  be  wanted  by  an  entire  county,  Mr. 
Dunmeade  ?  " 

"It  is,"  he  confessed,  "rather  pleasant  —  if  true. 
Who  are  you  ?  " 

And  suddenly,  with  a  laugh,  she  was  gone,  amid  a 
clatter  of  hoofs.  He  followed  her  admiringly  with 
his  eyes,  as  her  horse  sped  with  its  burden  along  the 
road,  until  at  the  edge  of  the  town  they  disappeared 
under  the  arching  trees  of  the  street. 

"Well,  now,  if  that  isn't  funny!"  he  exclaimed. 
He  laughed,  for  no  particular  reason,  from  sheer  ex 
uberance  of  spirits. 

He  resumed  his  tramp,  head  high,  drinking  in  the 
glory  of  the  morning,  thrilling  with  the  joy  of  life  and 
the  vigor  of  body  which  a  sleepless  night  could  not 
impair. 

Once,  aloud,  he  addressed  the  morning.  "  She  said 
I  am  strong.  I  wonder,  am  I  strong  —  strong 
enough?  " 

And,  searching  his  soul  for  the  answer,  he  heard  no 
negative. 


CHAPTER  II 

MIRAGE  IN   THE  DESERT 

|~^HIS  chronicle,  we  neglected  to  state,  begins  at 
•*•  the  beginning  of  the  end  of  an  epoch.  The 
epoch  has  been  variously  styled  a  golden  age,  a  period 
of  prosperity,  an  era  of  expansion.  It  was  all  of  that 
• —  to  a  few.  For  others  —  though  they  did  not  see 
it  —  it  was  a  recession,  a  truce  in  the  struggle,  old 
as  life  itself,  between  the  many  and  the  strong. 

But  at  that  time  no  one,  perhaps  least  of  all  Wil 
liam  Murchell,  dreamed  that  the  historic  period,  in  the 
shaping  of  which  he  had  had  a  more  than  casual  hand, 
was  drawing  to  a  close.  Certain  gentlemen,  it  is 
true,  were  secretly  trying  to  destroy  his  power;  but 
they  entertained  no  wish  to  disturb  the  serene  course 
of  history. 

William  Murchell  was  a  distinguished  member  of  a 
class  whose  climbing  proclivities  are  not  subdued  by 
the  incident  of  a  lowly  start.  He  was  born  in  the  ob 
scure  hill  town  of  New  Chelsea,  soon  after  Andrew 
Jackson  and  his  contemporaries  promulgated  and  il 
lustrated  the  immortal  doctrine,  "  To  the  victor  belong 
the  spoils."  Left  an  orphan  at  the  tender  age  of 
fourteen,  he  became  a  grocery  clerk;  perhaps  here  he 
developed  the  talent  for  trading,  afterward  so  marked 
in  his  political  rise.  In  the  fashion  made  popular  by 
Abraham  Lincoln  and  other  great  men  he  secured  an 

9 


io  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

education  and  on  the  day  he  attained  his  majority,  was 
admitted  to  the  practice  of  law  in  Benton  County. 

About  the  same  time  he  entered  the  broader  pro 
fession  of  politics,  being  then  a  lukewarm  Whig. 
But  in  1856  we  find  him  an  interested  spectator  at  the 
birth  of  a  new  party;  doubtless  no  one  who  saw  the 
awkward,  countrified  youth  so  closely  watchful  of  the 
proceedings  could  have  believed  that  he  and  the  new 
party  would  prove  a  combination  that  would  later 
dominate  the  state,  even  create  some  stir  in  the  na 
tion.  What  he  believed  is  not  on  record,  save  that 
on  the  return  trip  to  New  Chelsea  he  remarked  sol 
emnly  to  the  Honorable  Robert  Dunmeade  (Congress 
man),  "Within  four  years  the  Republican  party  will 
carry  this  state,  and  within  eight  years  it  will  elect  a 
president."  To  which  that  gentleman,  who  had  al 
ready  received  evidence  of  the  young  man's  political 
astuteness,  listened  with  some  respect.  The  prophecy 
was  fulfilled  even  earlier  than  the  date  fixed  by  the 
youthful  politician,  which  caused  a  serious  unpleas 
antness  between  North  and  South.  William  Mur- 
chell  had  by  that  time  taken  the  preliminary  steps  to 
ward  effecting  the  alliance  just  mentioned. 

His  military  services  are  perhaps  best  dismissed 
with  the  mention  of  a  certain  gold  medal  struck  in  his 
honor,  by  special  act  of  Congress,  for  gallant  conduct 
on  the  field  of  battle.  The  invidious  have  made  much 
of  this  decoration.  However,  it  probably  required  a 
finer  courage  to  resign  from  the  colonelcy  of  his  Home 
Guard  regiment  on  the  eve  of  Gettysburg  —  this  in 
deed  was  the  fact  —  to  accept  the  less  exposed  office 
of  aide  to  the  governor  at  the  capital,  than  to  face  the 
hail  of  rebel  bullets.  There  are  many  ways  of  ex- 


MIRAGE  IN  THE  DESERT  n 

pressing  one's  patriotism.  Later  he  served  his  coun 
try  as  Prothonotary  for  Benton  County.  Afterward 
he  passed  through  many  gradations  of  political  pre 
ferment,  as  representative  in  the  general  assembly 
of  his  state,  as  state  senator,  as  state  treasurer  and 
finally  as  United  States  senator,  which  exalted  office 
he  held  until  —  but  we  anticipate  our  history.  He 
became  in  addition  leader  of  the  Republican  organi 
zation,  an  euphemism  employed  by  those  who  ob 
jected  to  the  term  "  boss." 

William  Murchell's  credo  was  that  of  a  respectable 
but  practical  man.  He  was  a  teetotaler  and  a  Presby 
terian  elder  and  believed  in  the  doctrine  of  foreordina- 
tion  and  in  a  literal  scriptural  hell  for  those  not  num 
bered  among  the  elect.  He  was  a  Republican  and 
believed  devoutly  in  the  avowed  and  tacit  principles  of 
that  party  (although  he  was  not  bigoted  and  would 
on  occasion  take  a  secret  hand  in  the  affairs  of  the 
opposition).  As  a  sub-article  of  this  tenet  he  held 
that  only  those  were  Republicans  who  were  loyal  to 
the  regular  organization ;  he  had  more  than  once  read 
out  of  the  party  foolhardy  young  men  who  ventured 
to  oppose  his  leadership.  He  believed,  moreover,  that 
the  Almighty  had  predestined  and  equipped  some  men 
for  leadership  and  that  lesser  folk  ought  frankly  to 
yield  obedience  to  this  decree  of  an  all-wise  Provi 
dence.  He  was,  as  has  been  intimated,  a  practical 
man,  and  he  followed  unquestioningly  certain  time- 
worn  but  useful  maxims,  such  as,  "  The  end  justifies 
the  means."  He  clung  especially  to  that  theory  of 
practical  politics  immortalized  in  Andrew  Jackson's 
time.  Yet  he  had  read  history  and  was  not  without 
a  sense  of  humor. 


12  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

He  lived  during  at  least  two  months  of  every  year 
in  the  town  of  his  birth,  either  in  the  square,  white 
frame  house  on  Maple  Street  or  at  the  farm,  three 
miles  west,  which  he  let  "  on  shares."  Change  of 
dynasties  has  removed  New  Chelsea  from  the  political 
map.  But  time  was  when  the  fashion  was  to  speak 
humorously  of  it  as  the  "  capital  de  facto."  This  was 
during  the  period  of  the  Murchell  ascendancy,  when 
gentlemen  interested  in  the  political  affairs  of  the 
commonwealth  were  wont  to  make  pilgrimages  to  the 
Maple  Street  house. 

New  Chelsea  was  a  quaint,  old-fashioned  town  lying 
at  the  head  of  the  Weehannock  Valley,  quite  content 
with  its  population  of  five  thousand  and  with  the 
honor  of  being  the  county  seat,  which  Murchell's  in 
fluence  had  prevented  from  being  moved  to  Plumville. 
When  citizens  of  that  thriving  little  factory  city  — 
fifteen  miles  away  —  casually  mentioned  the  latest 
census,  New  Chelseans  would  smile  a  superior  smile; 
they  knew  that  the  importance  of  a  community  is  de 
termined  by  the  character  rather  than  the  numbers  of 
its  population.  To  prove  this,  they  cited  the  case  of 
Murchell;  out  of  Bethlehem,  not  from  Jerusalem,  the 
king  had  been  chosen. 

Down  Main  Street,  one  fine  June  afternoon,  he  was 
walking  with  that  air  of  abstraction  which  sits  so  well 
on  the  great. 

"  He  has  big  possibilities."  Unconsciously  the  sen 
ator  spoke  aloud. 

His  companion  seemed  to  understand  the  reference. 
"  He's  all  right,"  he  answered.  State  Senator  Jim 
Sheehan  was  a  big,  fat  gentleman  with  furtive,  twin 
kling  eyes,  a  modicum  of  coarse  good  looks  and  a 


MIRAGE  IN  THE  DESERT  13 

rolling,  cock-sure  gait  bred  oi  no  misfortune.  He 
was  a  son  of  power.  Fifteen  years  before  he  had 
gone  to  Plumville  to  work  in  the  mills,  an  uncouth, 
unlettered  Irishman  who  could  tell  a  good  story,  hold 
unlimited  quantities  of  liquor  and  was  not  unwilling 
to  work  when  money  could  not  be  had  otherwise. 

But  not  long  for  him  had  been  the  grime  and  roar 
and  muscle-racking  of  the  mills;  money  could  be  had 
more  easily.  Plumville  was  booming.  There  were 
streets  to  be  graded  and  paved,  public  buildings  to  be 
constructed.  Jim  went  into  politics  and,  because  he 
was  a  good  "  vote-getter  "  and  had  a  certain  rough 
talent  for  the  game,  acquired  power.  He  opened  a 
saloon  and  acquired  more  power.  He  became  a  con 
tractor  and  secured  many  contracts.  One  day  the1 
city  awoke  to  the  fact  that  Jim  Sheehan  owned  its 
government.  The  citizens  cried  out  in  protest  — 
and,  with  the  habit  of  American  cities,  little  and  big, 
submitted.  He  became,  by  virtue  of  his  alliance  with 
Murchell,  state  senator  from  Benton  County  and 
leader  —  we  cling  to  the  euphemism  —  of  the  county 
organization. 

"  He's  all  right,"  he  repeated,  and  chuckled. 

"Eh?"  said  Murchell.     "Who's  all  right?" 

"  Why,  Johnny  Dunmeade,  of  course.  Didn't  tell 
you  how  I  happen  to  be  goin'  to  see  him,  'stead  of  the 
other  way  'round.  It's  a  horse  on  me,  all  right." 
He  threw  back  his  head  and  the  chuckle  became  a 
loud  guffaw.  "  Sent  word  for  him  to  come  to  my 
office  last  Tuesday  at  two  o'clock  sharp.  Guess  he 
knew  what  for.  He  came,  all  right.  I  thought  it'd 
do  him  good  to  cool  his  heels  a  while  —  keep  him 
from  gettin'  too  chesty,  see  ?  So  I  let  him  stay  in  the 


,14  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

front  office  while  I  read  the  newspaper  inside.  Guess 
he  waited  about  half  an  hour  and  then  got  up.  '  Pre 
sent  my  compliments  to  Senator  Sheehan,'  he  says  to 
the  boy,  '  and  tell  him  to  go  to  the  devil  and  learn  how 
to  keep  his  appointments.'  And  left.  'Long  about 
three  o'clock  I  strolled  out  —  and  gets  his  message." 
Sheehan  paused  long  enough  to  slap  his  thigh  re 
soundingly.  "  He's  all  right.  Ain't  any  one  told  me 
to  go  to  the  devil  for  some  time." 

"  Good  many  think  it,  though."  Murchell  smiled. 
"  You're  not  a  very  popular  citizen,  Jim." 

"Huh!"  Sheehan  grunted.  "I  don't  need  to  be 
popular,  so  long  as  the  organization  sticks.  But  say," 
he  reverted  to  his  *opic,  "  it'll  be  a  ten-strike,  puttin' 
Dunmeade  on  the  ticket.  I'm  glad  we  —  I  mean, 
you  —  thought  of  it.  I've  had  my  feelers  out  and 
he'll  be  worth  five  hundred  extry  majority  —  to  the 
whole  ticket." 

"  If  he'll  take  the  nomination." 

"Take  it?  Of  course,  he'll  take  it.  Ain't  there 
fifteen  hundred  a  year  in  it  for  him?  And  mebby, 
when  his  term's  ended,  he  might  go  to  the  legislature 
as  representative." 

"Or  state  senator?" 

Sheehan  grinned.  "  Say,  do  I  look  like  I  was  on 
my  way  to  the  boneyard  ?  " 

He  became  serious.  "  What's  the  matter  with  the 
people,  anyhow?  Raisin'  hell  all  over  the  state  — 
just  because,"  he  added  complainingly,  "  one  trust 
company  went  up  and  the  cashier  shot  itself.  Ain't 
business  good?  Ain't  the  organization  given  them 
good  government  ?  "  he  demanded. 


MIRAGE  IN  THE  DESERT  15 

"  It  has."  Senator  Murchell  spoke  with  convic 
tion. 

"What  do  they  want,  then?" 

"  I  don't  know.  They  don't  know.  And  as  long 
as  they  don't  know,"  Murchell  said  dryly,  "  you  and 
I,  Jim,  needn't  be  afraid." 

"  I  guess  that's  right. —  Here  we  are." 

They  had  reached  and  turned  the  corner  of  the 
street  that  bounds  the  court-house  square  on  the  north. 
They  stopped  at  a  frame,  two-room  shack,  by  the  door; 
of  which  hung  a  battered  tin  sign,  "  John  Dunmeade, 
Attorney-at-Law."  Sheehan  led  the  way  inside. 
Through  the  door  of  the  inner  room  came  the  muf 
fled  drone  of  voices.  The  two  men  seated  them 
selves  in  the  anteroom  and  waited.  Ten  minutes 
passed. 

Sheehan  chuckled  again.  "  I  bet,"  he  said,  "  he's 
seen  us  and  is  goin'  to  keep  us  waitin'.  That's  what 
I  like  about  him  —  he's  got  nerve  to  make  grand 
stand  plays.  A  grandstand  player  makes  a  good  can 
didate." 

"  Sheehan,"  Senator  Murchell  exclaimed  impa 
tiently,  "  for  a  smart  man  you  talk  a  lot  of  foolish 
ness." 

Sheehan  relapsed  into  a  serene  silence,  staring 
ruminatively  at  a  steel  engraving  of  Daniel  Web 
ster.  After  a  few  minutes  the  door  opened  and  John 
Dunmeade  emerged,  ushering  out  a  big,  bearded 
farmer.  When  the  client  had  left,  the  young  lawyer 
turned  to  his  callers  and  shook  hands,  warmly  with 
Murchell  and  hastily  with  Sheehan. 

"Will  you  step  inside,  gentlemen?" 


16  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

They  took  seats  around  the  old,  time-stained  mahog 
any  table.  Sheehan  drew  forth  from  his  waistcoat 
pocket  a  handful  of  fat,  black  cigars. 

"Smoke?" 

Murchell  shook  his  head.     John  also  declined. 

"  If  you  don't  mind,  I'll  stick  to  my  pipe."  He 
filled  and  lighted  it,  then  leaned  back,  surveying  his 
callers  expectantly. 

"  Well?  "  His  look  addressed  the  remark  to  Sena 
tor  Murchell. 

The  senator  smiled  slightly.  "  I'm  here  only  as  an 
honorary  vice-president.  Ask  Sheehan.  He  likes  to 
talk." 

"  Sure,"  Sheehan  grinned.  "  I  ain't  one  of  them 
that  believes  the  feller  that  don't  talk  is  deep  and 
wise.  He  gener'ly  ain't  talkin'  because  he  can't  think 
of  nothing  to  say."  He  paused,  and  continued,  "  Well, 
Mr.  District  Attorney — " 

"Isn't  that  a  little  premature?"  John  interrupted. 

For  answer  the  Honorable  Jim  drew  forth  from 
another  pocket  a  folded  newspaper,  which  he  spread 
out  on  his  knees.  Solemnly  he  began  to  read :  "  We 
should  not  dignify  the  present  rather  unsettled  politi 
cal  conditions  with  the  name  crisis.  But  it  is  un 
questionably  a  time  when  the  Republican  party  must 
inspect  its  path  carefully.  At  such  a  time  it  be 
hooves  it  to  choose  as  candidates  only  men  whose 
fearlessness  and  honesty  are  not  open  to  question. 
Benton  County  has  this  fall  to  fill  the  important  office 
of  district  attorney.  Of  all  those  mentioned  for  this 
post  we  know  of  none  who  so  well  fills  the  bill  as  John 
Dunmeade,  the  popular  and  brilliant  young  lawyer  of 
New  Chelsea.  His  name,"  Sheehan's  voice  rose  to  a 


MIRAGE  IN  THE  DESERT  17 

triumphant  climax ;  "  his  name  has  brought  forth  en 
thusiasm  wherever  mentioned.  The  entire  county 
wants  him.  It  will  have  him."  He  looked  up. 
"  What  do  you  think  of  that,  eh  ?  " 

"  Which  of  you,"  John  asked,  "  inspired  that  edi 
torial?" 

"  I  did,"  answered  Sheehan.  "  I  didn't  write  it, 
though,"  he  confessed. 

"  Don't  you  think,"  John  demanded,  a  little  sharply, 
"  you  might  have  asked  my  consent  before  using  my; 
name  as  a  candidate  ?  " 

"  What  the  — "  Then  Sheehan  recollected  Senator 
Murchell's  aversion  to  profanity.  He  stared  in 
amazement.  "  Say,  when  I'm  tryin'  to  do  you  a 
favor—" 

"  Not  at  all.  You're  doing  yourself  the  favor  of 
using  me  in  a  tight  place.  Do  I  understand  you've 
come  here  to  —  to  give  me  your  consent  to  run  ?  " 

Murchell  smiled.  The  sarcasm  was  lost  on  Shee 
han. 

"  We  came  to  say  we'd  support  you." 

"  Then  let  me  state  the  case  to  you  as  it  is.  The 
state  is  pretty  much  worked  up  over  that  trust  com 
pany  affair  back  east  —  I'm  not  sure  it  oughtn't  to 
be  worked  up,  either.  The  farmers  in  this  county  and 
a  good  many  people  in  Plumville  aren't  very  friendly 
to  you  personally  at  best.  In  short,"  he  laughed, 
"  you  need  some  new  timber  to  patch  up  the  old  ship 
of  state.  And  you  think  I'll  do." 

Sheehan  turned  to  Senator  Murchell.  "  Senator, 
let's  me  and  you  go  right  out  and  resign  and  let 
Johnny  here  run  things.  Don't  you  want  the  job?" 
he  demanded  of  John. 


i8  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

"  I  don't  know  yet.  I'm  thinking  it  over.  But  if 
I  take  it,  it  will  be  on  condition — " 

"On  condition!" 

" — that  there  are  no  conditions.  I'd  want  to  run 
my  campaign  and  the  office  according  to  my  own 
notions.  I'd  run  it  straight." 

"  Sure,"  agreed  Sheehan. 

"  I  really  mean  it,  you  know,"  John  insisted.  "  I 
might  even  have  to  get  after  you,  Sheehan." 

This,  to  Sheehan,  was  humorous  matter.  "  That's 
all  right,"  he  agreed  again,  grinning,  "  if  you  can 
catch  me.  You  think  it  over,  Johnny,  and  let  me 
know  to-morrow." 

He  rose.  "  Well,  I  guess  I  must  be  goin'.  Are 
you  comin'  along,  Senator?" 

"  Not  just  now,  Sheehan,"  Senator  Murchell  an 
swered. 

"  I'll  be  sayin'  good  day,  then."  Sheehan  shook 
hands  with  Senator  Murchell  and  John  and  moved 
toward  the  door.  With  his  hand  on  the  knob,  he 
stopped. 

"  You  don't  open  the  door  for  me  the  way  you 
did  for  your  rube  friend,  Johnny !  "  He  laughed. 

"  Pardon  me."  John  took  a  step  toward  him.  But 
Sheehan  opened  the  door  himself. 

"  Don't  mind.  I'm  able-bodied  yet."  And  went 
out. 

John  went  to  the  window,  where  he  watched  the 
politician  until  the  swaggering  figure  disappeared 
around  the  corner.  Murchell,  with  a  faint  twinge  at 
his  heart,  saw  the  distaste  plainly  written  on  the  young 
man's  face.  The  twinge  was  because  the  time  had 
come  to  grind  his  young  friend  through  the  mills  of 


MIRAGE  IN  THE  DESERT  19 

the  organization.  He  could  not  understand  the  sharp 
little  pain.  Surely  any  man  in  his  senses  would  be 
glad  to  be  converted  into  fine,  useful  meal.  And 
the  senator,  who  set  a  low  value  upon  gratuitous 
services,  proposed  to  make  the  grinding  process 
worth  while  to  the  man  who  was  to  be  ground.  He 
was  already  forming  vague  plans  of  setting  him  on 
the  road  to  high  political  station;  perhaps  John  might 
even  prove  to  be  an  Elisha,  some  day  to  assume  a 
fallen  mantle.  The  senator  would  have  rejoiced  in 
such  a  consummation,  and  for  a  reason  that  would 
have  astounded  those  who  looked  upon  him  only  as 
a  crafty  old  fox,  that  might  have  astonished  even 
himself  had  he  analyzed  it  with  the  close  care  he 
usually  gave  to  his  mental  processes. 

To  the  portrait  with  which  this  chapter  opened 
we  may  add  that  William  Murchell  was  a  bachelor 
—  a  matter  for  which  he  is  not  to  be  censured  too 
severely,  since  he  once  made  an  earnest  effort  to  repair 
the  condition.  His  had  been  a  very  simple  ro 
mance.  He  had  loved,  had  laid  himself  and  his  as 
pirations  at  the  lady's  feet  and  had  been  rejected.  A 
short  time  afterward  he  stood  with  his  best  friend 
as  the  latter  took  the  same  lady  in  holy  wedlock. 
It  is  probable  that  he  had  his  period  of  suffering; 
but,  as  became  a  man  of  ambition,  he  quickly  put  an 
end  to  it  and  gave  himself  to  the  climb  to  power.  In 
time  his  romance  was  almost  forgotten. 

Almost!  For  in  later  years  he  formed  the  habit  of 
looking  back  and  wondering  why  he  had  been  made 
to  suffer  his  futile  love.  Not  that  he  was  a  senti 
mental  man !  He  merely,  where  other  great  men  took 
recreation  by  reading  detective  stories,  found  occa- 


20  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

sional  relaxation  in  reliving  his  romance.  Sometimes, 
in  a  mellow  hour,  he  would  construct  for  himself  a 
scene  in  which  a  gentle-faced  woman  with  gray-green 
eyes  sat  across  the  hearth  and  around  them  an  in 
definite  number  of  the  second  generation.  In  the 
scene  was  always  a  pleasantly-laughing  young  man 
who  peered  out  on  the  world  through  eyes  like  his 
mother's.  This  often  occurred  after  Senator  Mur- 
chell  had  met  or  heard  something  of  John  Dun- 
meade,  a  young  man  in  whom  he  thought  he  saw 
a  masculine  replica  of  the  woman  of  his  romance. 
The  senator's  memory  must  have  been  good,  for  she 
had  been  dead  many  years.  He  was  seeing  her  that 
June  afternoon. 

John  returned  to  his  chair.  Murchell  looked 
around  at  the  dingy  office.  Over  the  desk  hung 
a  calendar  and  another  faded,  old-fashioned  print 
of  Daniel  Webster.  Save  for  this  adornment  the 
walls  were  given  over  to  calf-  and  sheep-bound 
books;  rows  and  rows  set  upon  plain  pine  shelves. 
The  old  mahogany  furniture,  doubtless  splendid  in 
its  day,  had  been  battered  and  scratched  by  many 
careless  hands  and  feet. 

"  You  keep  the  old  office  just  the  same,  I  see.  I 
remember  when  your  grandfather  built  and  furnished 
it" 

"  Yes,  I  don't  like  to  disturb  things  —  though 
Aunt  Roberta  thinks  it's  a  fearful  mess.  Three  gen 
erations  of  Dunmeades  have  used  this  office  just  as 
it  is." 

"  I  used  to  come  here  to  borrow  books  from  your 
grandfather  —  and  talk  politics.  He  was  a  mighty 


MIRAGE  IN  THE  DESERT  21 

smart  man.  He  would  have  been  governor  during 
the  war,  if  he  hadn't  died.  He  gave  me  my  start." 

"  Yes,"  John  said  idly. 

"  Senator,"  he  leaned  forward  abruptly,  "  what  do 
you  think  of  Sheehan?" 

"  He  is,"  Senator  Murchell  said  cautiously,  "  a  dia 
mond  in  the  rough." 

"  Decidedly  in  the  rough !  " 

"  He's  smarter  than  he  talks.  He  has  power. 
Don't  make  an  enemy  of  him,  John  —  don't  make 
him  an  enemy." 

"  He's  a  vicious  type,"  John  declared. 

"  Your  grandfather  used  to  say,  '  There's  no  man 
so  bad  and  no  man  so  good  that  he  can't  be  made 
useful.'  Sheehan  has  been  mighty  useful  to  —  his 
party."  The  pause  was  almost  imperceptible. 

"  Senator,  why  don't  you,  with  all  your  power,  put 
men  like  Sheehan  out  of  politics?" 

"  Young  man,"  Murchell  answered  dryly,  "  if  I 
were  strong  enough  to  put  all  the  rascals  out  of  poli 
tics,  I'd  make  the  Almighty  jealous.  And  if  I  did 
put  them  out,  I  couldn't  fill  their  places.  I've  heard 
there  are  a  few  saints  on  earth,  but  they're  not  in 
politics." 

John  smiled  skeptically.  "  There's  an  answer  to 
that  —  if  I  only  knew  it."  He  sighed. 

"  Are  you  going  to  take  the  nomination  ?  " 

"  I  hate  to  be  under  obligations  to  Sheehan." 

"  You  won't  be  under  obligations  —  to  Sheehan." 

"  I  don't  want  to  be  under  obligations  — "  John  hesi 
tated  a  moment  — "  to  you.  Something  might  come 
up  that  would  make  me  seem  ungrateful." 


22  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

"  I'll  risk  it." 

"  But  I'm  not  sure  I'm  the  kind  of  man  you  want." 

"I'll  risk  it,"  Murchell  repeated. 

"  But  I  don't  think  you  understand,"  John  per 
sisted.  "  I've  been  —  bothered  a  little  lately  about 
some  things.  That  trust  company  affair,  for  instance 
—  it  doesn't  look  right.  And  then  Sheehan  —  I 
can't  quite  stomach  his  power.  I'm  afraid  I  haven't 
given  politics  the  attention  a  man  should  give  — 
and  I  can't  quite  decide  these  questions  yet." 

"  You  don't  have  to  decide  them.  And  don't  be 
lieve  all  the  rumors  you  hear." 

"  But  I'm  afraid  that  trust  company  rumor  has 
been  pretty  well  substantiated.  I  don't  like  to  seem 
to  criticize,  Senator,"  he  said  courteously,  "  but  it 
looks  to  me  as  though  the  system  that  allowed  that 
affair  must  be  wrong  somewhere." 

"  Tut !  tut !  young  man,"  the  senator  answered,  a 
trifle  testily,  "  don't  go  flying  off  at  a  tangent  with 
harebrained  theories  about  perfect  systems.  As 
long  as  men  are  weak  and  imperfect,  any  system  they 
devise  will  make  some  mistakes,  won't  it?  And  since 
the  Almighty  made  some  men  strong  enough  to  do 
pretty  much  as  they  please,  they're  going  to  do  things 
that  way.  I  guess  He  knew  what  He  was  doing 
when  He  made  such  men."  Again  Senator  Murchell 
spoke  with  conviction. 

John  shook  his  head  in  troubled  fashion.  "  I've 
got  to  figure  that  out  in.  my  own  way.  Senator." 

Murchell  looked  out  of  the  window  into  the  Square, 
thoughtfully.  It  was  a  warm,  listless  day.  The 
leaves  on  the  trees,  stirred  by  the  gentle  breeze,  whis- 
pered  spiritlessly.  The  flag,  the  one  brilliant  splash 


MIRAGE  IN  THE  DESERT  23 

of  color  in  the  sober  picture,  flapped  lazily  at  the 
head  of  its  tall  mast.  A  few  small  boys,  who  had 
been  playing  ball,  were  lying  on  the  grass,  even  their 
young  sportiveness  not  proof  against  the  general  in 
ertia.  There  was  nothing  in  the  peaceful,  indolent 
scene  to  tell  him  that  the  serene  waters  upon  which 
he  had  sailed  to  power  were  to  become  a  seething, 
passion-lashed  fury  whose  subsidence  he  would  never 
see.  He  knew  only  that  the  people,  even  —  sad  ex 
ample  of  the  ingratitude  of  republics!  —  the  people 
of  Benton  County,  were  stirring  restlessly,  asking 
questions  and  criticizing  answers.  But  that  would 
pass,  as  such  ebullitions  had  always  passed!  Neither 
the  face  beside  him,  troubled  by  a  problem  old  as 
life  itself,  nor  the  returning  twinge  at  his  heart  de 
terred  him  from  carrying  out  his  resolution  to  press 
the  young  man  into  his  service.  There  is  a  scriptural 
injunction  concerning  putting  one's  hand  to  the 
plow,  -which  Senator  Murchell  had  read  and  always 
obeyed. 

He  pointed  to  the  sleepy  Square.  "  You  won't 
want  to  sit  here  looking  out  at  that  all  your  life  — 
if  you're  the  man  I  take  you  for.  You'll  want  to  go 
out  and  make  your  place  —  a  big  place  —  in  the  life 
of  men.  If  you  do,  you  can't  stop  to  hit  every  ugly 
head  that  pops  up  in  your  path.  And  you've  got  to 
make  use  of  the  materials  you  find.  Leave  the  things 
that  don't  look  right  alone  —  they'll  work  themselves 
out  in  the  end.  They  always  have.  And  be  imper 
sonal.  Make  use  of  enemies  and  friends  alike." 

Counsel  to  Laertes  from  an  expert  in  life! 

"  Even  your  friendship  ?  "  John  interrupted  quickly, 
smiling. 


24  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

"  You'd  be  a  fool  if  you  didn't,"  Polonius  replied 
consistently. 

"I'm  afraid,"  John  sighed;  "I'm  afraid  I'm  that 
kind  of  fool.  I  suppose,"  he  went  on,  "  I'm  going 
to  take  the  nomination.  I  do  want  to  make  a  place 
for  myself  in  the  big  life  of  men.  But  I  want  to 
earn  it,  not  seize  it  because  I  am  strong  enough,  or 
have  it  given  to  me  by  some  other  who  is  strong." 
He  hesitated,  then  continued,  "  It  sounds  absurd, 
I  know,  but  something  seems  calling,  compelling  me 
into  this.  And  I'm  —  I'm  afraid.  I  have  the  feel 
ing  that  I  am  facing  something  to  which  I  perhaps 
may  not  be  equal.  Senator  Murchell,  I  ask  you  to 
tell  me  truly,  is  there  any  reason  why  a  man  who 
wants  to  come  through  clean  should  not  go  into  poli 
tics?" 

"  Absolutely  none,"  the  senator  answered  promptly. 
And  he  added  sincerely,  with  a  pertinence  the  scope 
of  which  he  did  not  comprehend,  "  If  there  were  more 
clean  men  in  politics,  there  would  be  less  room  for 
the  rascals." 

So  William  Murchell,  as  he  thought,  bound  his 
young  friend,  John  Dunmeade,  to  the  wheels  of  his 
organization.  Ex  post  facto  criticism  is  easy;  even 
Napoleon's  strategy  sometimes  erred. 

News  travels  swiftly  and  by  mysterious  avenues  in 
New  Chelsea.  That  evening  at  supper  Judge  Dun 
meade  congratulated  his  son. 

"  I  am  glad,"  he  said  ponderously,  "  that  you  have 
entered  the  service  of  your  party." 

Miss  Roberta,  the  judge's  sister,  sniffed  disdainfully. 
"  Does  that  mean  pulling  chestnuts  out  of  the  coals 


MIRAGE  IN  THE  DESERT  25 

for  pussy  Murchell?  You  better  keep  out  of  poli 
tics,  John.  There'll  be  trouble,  I  feel  it  in  my 
bones." 

The  judge  frowned  and  John  laughed.  Her  bones, 
if  Miss  Roberta  was  to  be  believed,  often  essayed  the 
role  of  prophet. 

John's  laughter  quickly  subsided.  "  I  have  a  pro 
found  regard  for  your  judgment,  Aunt  Roberta." 

"  And  a  will  of  your  own." 

"I  hope  so." 

"  You'll  need  it." 

"  Roberta,"  chided  the  judge,  "  it  doesn't  lie  in  a 
Dunmeade's  mouth  to  speak  disparagingly  of  one  who 
has  placed  our  family  under  such  obligations  as  has 
William  Murchell." 

"  Meaning  your  judgeship,  I  suppose." 

The  judge  stiffened  visibly.  "  I  trust  my  own 
character  and  ability  had  something  to  do  with  that." 

"  Are  you  depending  on  them  to  make  you  a  jus 
tice?  "  It  was  an  open  secret  in  the  Dunmeade  family 
that  the  judge  aspired  to  end  his  days  on  the  supreme 
bench  of  the  state. 

He  treated  the  jibe  to  the  silence  it  deserved,  and 
Miss  Roberta,  who  did  not  ignore  the  value  of  the 
last  word  in  a  tilt,  triumphantly  rose  from  the  table 
and  left  the  room. 

"  Your  aunt,"  remarked  the  judge,  "  lets  her  habit 
of  saying  biting  things  run  away  with  her  judgment." 

"  Ye-es?  "  said  John  doubtfully. 

"  Yes !  "  said  the  judge  emphatically.  "  To  follow 
in  the  footsteps  of  such  a  man  as  William  Murchell 
entails  no  loss  of  self-respect." 


26  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

"  At  least,  there's  ample  precedent  for  it." 

"  And  honorable  precedent,  I  hope,"  the  judge  sup 
plemented,  having  himself  in  mind. 

John  looked  thoughtfully  at  his  father,  a  question 
momentarily  halting  his  elation  over  his  prospective 
preferment.  Hugh  Dunmeade  was  held  by  his  neigh 
bors,  and  hitherto  had  been  accounted  by  his  son,  a 
good  man,  a  just  judge  and  an  exemplary  citizen. 
His  dicta,  judicial  and  private,  carried  great  weight 
in  the  community.  And  he  seemed  troubled  by  no 
questions  of  —  not  having  formulated  the  disturbing 
doubt,  John  called  it  —  propriety. 

"  In  whose  footsteps,"  John  suddenly  asked,  "  did 
Murchell  follow?" 

"  Being  a  great  man,"  answered  his  father,  "  he 
blazed  his  own  path  and  led  his  party  after  him." 

The  implication  called  a  twinkle  into  John's  eyes, 
but  he  made  no  retort. 

"  I  hope,"  Judge  Dunmeade  continued,  "  you  aren't 
falling  into  your  aunt's  habit  of  looking  a  gift  horse 
in  the  mouth." 

"  Then  it  —  this  nomination  —  will  be  a  gift  from 
Murchell?" 

"  You  couldn't  have  it  otherwise." 

"And  you  see  nothing  wrong  in  that?" 

"  I,  myself,  should  be  glad  to  have  his  support  for 
any  office  I  might  seek."  The  judge  regarded  this 
answer  as  sufficient.  "  I'm  glad  you  have  it.  It 
shows  his  friendship  for  us  continues.  And,"  he 
cleared  his  throat  significantly,  "  it  augurs  well  for 
other  honors  to  —  ahem !  —  our  family." 

Two  little  creases  settled  between  John's  eyes. 


MIRAGE  IN  THE  DESERT  27 

Miss  Roberta  was  a  vigorous  spinster  of  sixty 
whose  caustic  tongue  tried,  not  always  successfully, 
to  hide  the  kindly  impulses  of  her  heart.  It  would 
be  absurd,  of  course,  to  say  that  she  had  preserved 
the  bloom  of  her  youth;  but  she  had  preserved  her 
hair,  which  was  something.  And  she  bore  herself, 
if  not  with  the  buoyancy  of  earlier  years,  at  least 
with  an  upright  dignity  highly  becoming  in  the  only 
daughter  of  New  Chelsea's  first  family.  Not  that 
Miss  Roberta  was  so  wrapped  up  in  the  glories  of 
the  past  that  she  forgot  the  exigencies  of  the  present. 
Woe  betide  the  huckstering  farmer  who  ventured  to 
proffer  his  wares  at  exorbitant  prices !  It  was  her 
belief,  not  without  justification  in  the  fact,  that  she 
had  been  indispensable  to  the  judge  and  his  son ;  hence 
she  scolded  and  disciplined  them  freely.  She  was  a 
lady  of  many  violent  dislikes,  notably  for  Senator 
Murchell  and  Warren  Blake,  and  a  few  equally  vio 
lent  friendships;  although  it  was  matter  for  doubt 
whom  she  made  the  more  uncomfortable,  enemies  or 
friends,  toward  both  of  whom  she  allowed  herself  the 
privilege  of  frank  criticism. 

Later  in  the  evening  she  found  John  alone  on  the 
western  porch,  staring  up  into  the  sky.  The  prophecy 
of  the  morning's  red  sunrise  was  about  to  be  ful 
filled;  a  storm  was  brewing.  Athwart  the  sky  hung 
heavy  black  clouds,  turned  momentarily  by  the  light 
ning  flashes  into  the  murky  yellow  of  damp  wood 
smoke.  Under  the  rising  wind  the  trees  swayed  and 
bent  as  though  shaken  by  the  hand  of  some  invisible 
giant. 

"Isn't  it  great,  though!     I  never  tire  of  watching 


'28  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

a  storm  come  up.  There's  a  majesty  about  it,  a  sort 
of—" 

"  Humph !  It's  going  to  be  wet  and  your  father's 
rheumatics  will  be  worse,"  interrupted  Miss  Roberta, 
eminently  practical.  "  You  better  go  up-stairs  and 
close  the  windows." 

John  laughingly  obeyed.  When  he  returned,  Miss 
Roberta  was  still  on  the  porch,  staring  disapprovingly 
at  the  advancing  storm. 

"Don't  you  like  it?" 

"  I  do  not.  Ugh !  "  Miss  Roberta  jumped,  as  an 
exceptionally  brilliant  flash  shot  its  jagged  path  across 
the  clouds.  "  I  told  your  father  he  ought  to  put  up 
new  lightning  rods." 

"  Isn't  there  any  poetry  in  you,  Aunt  Roberta?  " 

"  Poetry  indeed !  "  The  accompanying  sniff  was 
eloquent.  John  returned  to  his  contemplation  of  the 
storm. 

"  Steve  Hampden,"  Miss  Roberta  remarked  in  a 
carefully  casual  tone,  "  is  home.  And  Katherine," 
she  added. 

"Yes?"  negligently. 

"  You  go  and  call  on  her.     Go  to-night." 

"  Can't.  I  have  — "  he  yawned  " —  an  appoint 
ment  with  the  sandman.  I  didn't  sleep  much  last 
night." 

"  Humph !  You  never  were  in  bed  at  all.  Go  to 
morrow,  then." 

"  Won't  she  keep  ?  She  seemed  healthy  enough 
the  last  time  I  saw  her.  Regular  little  red-headed 
tomboy  she  was." 

"  She  mightn't  stay  long."  Miss  Roberta's  tone 
implied  that  this  contingency  would  be  little  short  of 


MIRAGE  IN  THE  DESERT  29 

calamitous.  "  And  Warren  Blake  is  dancing  after 
her  already." 

"  Dear  Aunt  Roberta,  Warren  never  in  his  life  did 
anything  so  frivolous  as  dancing.  Why  are  you  in 
such  a  hurry  to  have  me  fall  in  love?  " 

"  I  don't  want  you  to  grow  old  and  crabbed  and  — 
and  lonesome  —  like  me." 

"  Why  —  why,  Aunt  Roberta !  I  didn't  know  you 
felt  that  way.  You  mustn't,  you  know,"  he  said 
gravely,  and  patted  her  hand  affectionately,  from 
which  unwonted  demonstration  she  hastily  snatched 
it  away. 

He  laughed.  "  There's  time  enough  for  mating, 
anyhow.  I'm  only  thirty.  And  besides,  what  could 
I  offer  a  girl,  even  if  I  were  so  reckless  as  to  fall  in 
love?" 

"  Yourself."  Miss  Roberta  could  not  entirely  re 
press  a  hint  of  pride. 

"  Those  spectacles  you're  always  losing  must  be 
rose-colored.  I'd  want  to  offer  something  more  than 
myself,  Aunt  Roberta;  something  of  achievement 
that  would  prove  my  worth.  I  couldn't  love  a  woman 
who  could  care  for  a  little,  futile  man.  When  I've 
done  something,  then — " 

"  I  know  what  you're  thinking,  Johnny ;  don't  go 
into  politics." 

"  I've  got  to.  I  don't  want  to  go  all  my  life  as  I 
have  gone,  drudging  along  for  a  little  money,  drying 
up  in  the  routine,  my  outlook  narrowing.  I'd  have 
nothing  to  show  in  justification  of  my  living.  Why, 
I'd  be  no  better  than  Warren  Blake,  Aunt  Roberta." 

One  might  by  a  stretch  of  the  imagination  have 
called  the  sound  Miss  Roberta  emitted,  a  laugh. 


30  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

He  pointed  to  the  lowering  sky.  A  vivid  flash  for 
an  instant  tossed  back  the  gathering  darkness.  She 
saw  his  face  grow  suddenly  eager,  intense. 

"  I  want  to  get  into  the  storm  of  the  vital  things, 
to  see  how  big  I  am,  to  find  out  what  I'm  worth. 
Surely  I  can  do  something  better  than  examining 
titles  and  drawing  deeds  and  trying  line-fence  cases 
all  my  life.  I'm  thirty  already  —  do  you  realize  it? 
—  and  I've  done  nothing  but  drift.  It  isn't  life. 
That's  what  I  want  —  the  big  life  of  vital  action." 

"  Life!  You  young  folks  are  always  talking  about 
life.  What  do  you  know  about  it?  You  go  into  the 
storm  and  what  do  you  get?  You  get  —  you  get 
rheumatism  of  the  soul  —  that's  what  you  get.  And 
when  fair  weather  comes  again,  you're  too  stiff  and 
achey  to  know  it.  I  know!  And  I  know,  too,"  she 
added  grimly,  "  there's  no  use  talking.  Don't  sit  up 
all  night." 

He  laughed  again.  She  went  into  the  house,  leav 
ing  him  to  stare  up  into  the  racing  storm.  The  chill, 
damp  wind  stung  his  face  and  he  joyed  in  it,  and  in 
the  splendid  play  of  the  lightning.  So,  he  told  him 
self,  he  would  joy  in  the  play  of  those  forces  which 
move  men  to  good  and  ill.  He  was  young ;  fear  could 
not  abide  with  him  long.  He  watched  until  the  clouds 
opened  and  the  slanting  deluge  fell. 


CHAPTER  III 

SUNSET 

ACROSS  Main  Street  from  the  court-house  square 
—  scene  of  Daniel  Webster's  famous  speech, 
the  war-time  demonstrations  and  the  annual  Repub 
lican  rally  —  stands  a  red-brick,  white-porticoed  man 
sion  in  the  style  we  distinguish  as  colonial.  In  the  gen 
erous  yard  are  several  fine  old  chestnut  trees,  saplings 
when  the  pioneer  first  set  eyes  on  the  Weehannock 
Valley.  From  the  street  the  passer-by  can  catch  a 
glimpse  of  an  old-fashioned  garden  in  the  rear.  This 
house  was  built  in  the  early  thirties  by  Thomas  Dun- 
meade,  founder  of  New  Chelsea,  then  in  his  eightieth 
year,  a  period  of  life  when  his  thoughts  should  have 
been  centered  on  heavenly  glories  but  were  in  fact 
busied  with  the  cares  and  vanities  of  this  world.  The 
mahogany  furnishings  came  west  by  way  of  the  canal, 
because  the  builder,  a  somewhat  obstinate  old  gentle 
man  who  had  not  forgotten  the  indignity  of  his  de 
parture  from  the  Steel  City  —  on  a  rail,  behind  a  reve 
nue  officer  during  a  certain  insurrection  —  refused  to 
patronize  the  industries  of  that  infant  metropolis. 

Thomas  lived  just  long  enough  to  install  himself  in 
the  new  house ;  then  he  died  in  an  apoplectic  fit  follow 
ing  a  choleric  denunciation  of  Andrew  Jackson.  The 
title  to  the  house  descended  to  the  pioneer's  son  Rob 
ert,  a  gentleman  of  parts  who,  as  founder  of  the  flour 

31 


32  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

mills,  brought  commercial  consequence,  and  as  con 
gressman  for  one  term,  the  honors  of  statesmanship, 
to  the  town  of  his  nativity.  In  Robert's  day  the  house 
with  the  stately  portico  became  a  center  of  influence 
even  more  effective  if  less  aggressive  than  that  of  the 
domineering  Thomas.  A  guest-book  kept  during  this 
period  records  the  names  of  many  notables  who  tasted 
Robert's  hospitality.  Daniel  Webster  himself  on  the 
memorable  occasion  of  his  New  Chelsea  speech  lay 
overnight  in  the  big  spare  room  overlooking  the  gar 
den.  In  Robert's  later  years  his  home  became  a  hot 
bed  for  the  Abolition  propaganda,  the  future  of  which 
he  foresaw.  This  work,  with  his  considerable  proper 
ties,  was  in  the  gloomy  days  preceding  the  war  handed 
down  to  his  son  Hugh,  the  soldier  and,  later,  the  judge 
of  the  house  of  Dunmeade. 

Miss  Roberta  and  John  were  sitting  under  a  tree 
in  the  front  yard.  It  was  Sabbath  afternoon  in  New 
Chelsea.  No  other  phrase  can  quite  do  justice  to  the 
heavy  stillness,  broken  only  by  an  occasional  rooster's 
crow  raised  in  plaintive  defiance  of  Presbyterian  tra 
ditions  and  by  the  far-off  sacrilegious  tinkle  of  a  man 
dolin,  played  doubtless  by  some  hardy  sinner,  a  sum 
mer  resident.  In  the  middle  of  the  air  the  instrument 
suddenly  became  voiceless,  as  though  overcome  by  the 
unresponsiveness  of  the  day.  John  laughed. 

"  I  was  betting  he  wouldn't  play  it  through." 

"  I  wonder,"  mused  Miss  Roberta,  "  how  Steve 
Hampden  liked  the  sermon?" 

"  He  probably  wasn't  listening." 

"  Warren  Blake  walked  home  from  church  with 
Katherine,"  she  remarked  significantly. 

"She  was  there,  then?" 


SUNSET  33 

"Didn't  you  see  her?" 

"  I  heard  the  stir  when  she  came  in.  But,  strange 
to  relate,  I  was  more  interested  in  the  service,  and  I 
forgot  to  look  her  up  after  church." 

"  Why  won't  you  go  to  see  her?  " 

John  rose  with  a  sigh  of  resignation.  "  Aunt 
Roberta,  you  are  a  woman  of  one  idea.  I  see  I  shall 
have  no  peace  of.  mind  until  I've  paid  my  respects  to 
this  gilded  lady.  I  go !  " 

"  Huh !  In  my  time  young  men  were  more  man 
nerly  to  attractive  young  ladies.  Are  you  going  to 
take  cards?"  she  inquired  anxiously. 

"  And  prove  that  New  Chelsea  knows  what's  what 
in  the  world  of  fashion?  My  dear  aunt,  I  leave  that 
to  Warren  Blake.  Besides,"  he  laughed,  "  I  haven't 
any." 

He  sauntered  up  Main  Street  into  the  newer  part 
of  the  town  where  the  well-to-do  summer  resident  had 
encamped.  At  its  extreme  northerly  edge  he  came  to 
the  end  of  his  journey. 

He  could  never  repress  a  smile  when  he  saw  it. 
Almost  within  the  span  of  his  memory  the  evolution 
of  the  Hampden  place  —  it  was  always  called  a 
"  place  " —  keeping  pace  with  its  owner's  fortune,  had 
been  wrought.  The  first  house  on  that  site  had  been 
a  five-room,  frame  cottage,  built  just  before  the  war 
when  Stephen  Hampden  was  manager  of  the  Dun- 
meade  mills.  Hampden  himself  had  painted  that  first 
home;  a  fact  of  which  in  later  years  he,  but  not  his 
wife,  was  prone  to  boast.  His  own  hands,  too,  had 
set  out  the  maples,  which  alone  survived  change  of  for 
tune.  But  before  the  cottage  needed  repainting,  the 
mills  had  burned  down  never  to  be  rebuilt,  and  he  had 


34  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

moved  to  Plumville.  It  is  said  that  he  laid  the  foun 
dation  of  his  fortune  in  a  certain  contract  for  army 
horse  shoes.  And  Hampden  was  of  those  Yankee 
necromancers  who  have  discovered  what  baffled  the 
alchemists  of  the  dark  ages,  a  philosopher's  stone  to 
transmute  oil,  coal,  iron  —  even  Plumville  real  estate ! 
—  into  gold.  In  the  seventies,  being  then  owner  of 
that  city's  largest  iron  foundry,  he  inaugurated  the 
custom  of  returning  to  New  Chelsea  for  the  hot 
months.  The  little  cottage  was  torn  down.  In  its 
place  was  reared  a  red-brick  house,  liberally  adorned 
with  turrets  and  scroll-work  in  the  style  of  that  period; 
cast-iron  deer  were  set  up  in  the  yard.  It  is  remem 
bered  in  New  Chelsea  that  Steve  Hampden  was  ex 
ceedingly  proud  of  this  new  home. 

The  foundry  grew;  even  outgrew  its  owner,  whose 
taste,  if  not  his  talents,  ran  to  speculation  rather  than 
to  production.  He  sold  out  and  went  to  the  Steel 
City  to  pursue  fortune  via  the  bourse  and  the  real  es 
tate  market.  In  these  days  New  Chelsea  saw  him 
and  his  family  only  semi-occasionally ;  the  house  with 
the  turrets  and  the  iron  deer  had  attained  the  dignity 
of  a  "  country  place."  Then  New  Chelsea  heard  that 
Steve  Hampden  had  been  admitted  into  the  enviable 
and  exclusive  circle  of  millionaires.  With  wealth  and 
travel  came  taste.  The  "  country  house  "  was  remod 
eled;  although  just  why,  New  Chelsea  did  not  know, 
since  its  simple  charms  seemed  to  have  paled  before 
the  glittering  splendor  of  Newport  and  Lenox.  (New 
Chelsea,  whose  knowledge  of  "  society "  was  some 
what  vague,  took  a  mighty  pride  in  the  Hampdens'  so 
cial  adventures,  as  amplified  by  rumor  and  the  Globe.} 
The  turrets  were  razed;  wings  were  added  to  the 


SUNSET  35 

house;  dwarf  magnolias  took  the  place  of  the  cast-iron 
deer ;  rhododendrons  were  banked  around  the  house. 
The  iron  picket-fence  was  removed  and  a  hedge 
planted  in  its  stead.  Not  all  the  architect's  devices 
could  make  of  the  house  a  thing  of  beauty,  so  ivy  was 
planted  and  trained  to  enshroud  its  naked  ugliness. 
A  few  years  with  nature,  assisted  by  the  English 
gardener,  and  the  transformation  was  complete. 

But  not  enough !  For  New  Chelsea  knew  of  another 
structure  in  course  of  erection  on  the  crest  of  East 
Ridge ;  to  be  the  "  palatial  residence,"  as  the  Globe 
took  pleasure  in  reporting,  "  of  our  fellow  citizen, 
Stephen  Hampden,  who  it  is  hoped  will  be  often  in 
our  midst." 

A  butler  answered  John's  ring  and  on  inquiry  in 
formed  him  that  the  ladies  were  not  at  home. 

"Will  you  wait,  sir?" 

"  No."  And  John  turned  away  to  ponder  this  phe 
nomenon. 

"  A  butler  —  in  New  Chelsea !  And  I  had  no 
cards !  " 

He  walked  out  into  the  country  across  the  bridge 
at  the  confluence  of  North  Branch  and  South  Branch, 
where  rises  Grant's  Knob.  He  followed  the  path  that 
leads,  corkscrew  fashion,  to  the  crest  of  the  knob, 
and  there,  in  the  thick  shade  of  a  big  walnut,  leaning 
against  an  old  boulder  that  had  crowned  the  knob 
longer  than  John  could  remember,  sat  the  object  of  his 
quest. 

He  had  an  instant  to  look  at  her  before  she  observed 
him,  and  smilingly  he  availed  himself  of  it.  And 
very  charming,  very  alluring  she  was  to  his  eyes,  in 
her  light,  summery  gown  and  the  big,  soft  leghorn 


36  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

hat  with  its  flowers  and  leaves  dancing  in  the  breeze. 
An  open  book  lay  in  her  lap,  but  she  was  not  reading. 
Through  half-closed  eyes  she  was  gazing  dreamily  at 
the  hills  that  marched  away  into  the  blue  distance. 
He  had  time  to  note  that  her  face  was  unsmiling. 
Her  gravity  invested  her  with  a  soft  girlishness  that  the 
confident,  metallic  young  woman  of  the  sunrise  had 
lacked.  He  did  not  guess  how  long  the  picture  then 
printed  on  his  memory  would  remain  with  him. 

He  took  a  step  toward  her;  she  heard  him  and 
looked  up. 

"  Hello !  "  he  said. 

"  Good  afternoon."  Her  salutation  was  very  cool 
indeed. 

He  cast  about  for  something  witty  to  say.  All  he 
could  think  of  was,  "  I  didn't  expect  to  find  you 
here." 

"Didn't  you?" 

He  smiled.  "  Did  you  get  home  in  time  for  break 
fast  the  other  morning?" 

"  Yes." 

"  I  was  well  scolded  for  being  so  late.  Aunt 
Roberta  rules  me  with  a  rod  of  iron." 

"  You  probably  need  it." 

"I  do.     Has  Crusader  recovered?" 

"  Yes." 

"Of  course,  if  you  don't  want  me  to  stay — " 

"  It  isn't  my  hill." 

He  laughed  outright.  "  Her  tactics  never  vary,  it 
seems,"  he  remarked.  "  Effective,  though.  Queer, 
isn't  it,  how  attractive  a  girl  becomes  when  she  puts 
on  that  frigid,  speak-to-me-if-you-dare  manner!" 


SUNSET  37 

"  That  could  have  been  conveyed  more  wittily,  I 
think." 

"  For  instance?     I  am  not  unwilling  to  learn." 

"  I  should  have  said,  *  Even  the  undesired  becomes 
interesting  when  it  is  unattainable.'  Or — " 

"  O,  that  is  quite  sufficient !  I  bow  to  your  superior 
wit.  Only,  as  always  with  epigrams,  it  isn't  strictly 
true."  He  stood  with  hands  in  pockets  and  feet 
spread  apart,  surveying  her  curiously.  "  So  you're 
Katherine  Hampden ! " 

"  You  were  very  stupid  not  to  know  it  the  other 
day." 

"  But  I  remembered  you  — " 

"  You  mean,  you  forgot  all  about  me." 

" —  as  an  impudent,  long-legged,  freckled  tomboy 
with  red  hair,  while  you — "  He  paused  deliberately. 

"  My  hair  was  never  red,"  she  replied  coldly. 

"  Yes,  it  was  —  when  the  sun  was  on  it,"  he  contra 
dicted  firmly.  "  The  sun  is  on  it  now !  "  His  eyes 
were  bolder  than  his  tongue.  She  promptly  turned 
her  head  so  that  the  big  hat  shaded  the  tresses  in  con 
troversy. 

Suddenly  the  clouds  broke  away.  She  returned  to 
him  with  a  laugh.  "  O,  I  can't  keep  it  up.  But  where 
did  you  get  your  courage?  You  weren't  nearly  so 
brave  the  other  morning." 

"  I  didn't  know  who  you  were  then.  Mystery  al 
ways  frightens  me  —  a  little." 

"  But  you  really  don't  know  me  now." 

"  That  can  be  quickly  remedied,"  he  answered 
briskly. 

"  You  are  a  long  time  beginning.     I've  been  here  six 


38  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

days.  Why  haven't  you  come  to  see  me?"  she  de 
manded. 

"  Well,  you  see,"  he  began  lamely  to  explain,  "  I've 
had  a  good  many  important  things  to  think  about 
and—" 

"  And  I  was  neither  important  nor  interesting.  You 
need  practice,  I  see." 

"But  you  are." 

"You  really  find  me  interesting?  You  know,  I've 
worked  hard,  very  hard,  to  earn  the  involuntary,  gen 
erous  compliment  I  am  about  to  receive." 

"I  do  —  surprisingly  so,"  he  responded  promptly. 

"  You  needn't  be  so  surprised,"  she  retorted.  "  I 
was  always  rather  presentable,  in  spite  of  the  freckles, 
only  you  wouldn't  condescend  to  notice  it.  You 
didn't  like  me." 

"  But  you  were  such  a  pesky  little  nuisance,  you 
know,"  he  explained.  "  You  had  no  reverence  for  old 
age.  You  persisted  in  upsetting  my  dignity  at  every 
chance.  And  I  thought  a  lot  of  my  dignity  in  those 
days.  Let  me  see,"  he  added  reflectively,  "  that  was 
—  yes,  it's  been  ten  years  since  I  last  saw  you.  Not 
counting  the  other  morning,  of  course." 

"  No,  eight,"  she  corrected  him.  "  You  saw  me 
after  the  big  game,  the  time  you  saved  the  day.  You 
walked  right  by  me,  looking  straight  into  my  eyes  — 
and  never  recognized  me.  You  were  too  anxious  to 
reach  Adele  Whittington  and  be  made  a  hero  of  by 
her." 

He  laughed  self-consciously.  "Oh,  Adele!  And 
is  that  play  still  remembered?  But  I  wasn't  a  hero, 
you  know.  It  was  a  lucky  fluke.  I  really  wasn't  a 


SUNSET  39 

good  player,  but  things  broke  luckily  for  me  those 
days." 

"  Yes,"  she  nodded,  "  you  would  be  apt  to  say  that. 
But  Adele  didn't  think  so.  She  was  as  proud  as  — 
as  I'd  have  been,  if  I'd  had  the  chance  —  to  exhibit 
you." 

"How  is  Adele?" 

"  O,  she's  dreading  thirty,  is  fighting  down  a  tend 
ency  to  fat,  has  begun  to  paint  and  often  asks  about 
you.  Are  you  still  in  love  with  her?  And  am  I  a 
cat  to  talk  so  about  her  ?  And  has  she  had  many  suc 
cessors  ?  " 

"  No,  to  all  three  questions.  She  gave  me  a  bad 
three  months,  though." 

"  I'm  glad  of  it,"  she  declared  vengefully.  "  Be 
cause  —  am  I  not  brazen  ?  —  you  gave  me  a  bad  — 
longer  time  than  that.  Everybody  teased  me  about  it. 
Didn't  you  know  I  was  terribly  in  love  with  you? 
That's  what  made  me  such  a  pesky  little  nuisance. — 
O,  you  needn't  look  so  shocked,  since  it  was  only  calf 
love  and  I  have  quite  recovered.  Quite !  " 

He  burst  into  a  roar  of  laughter.  "  I  beg  your  par 
don,"  he  gasped,  when  he  had  partially  recovered  his 
gravity.  "  I'm  not  laughing  at  you, —  at  myself.  For 
a  second  I  almost  believed  that  —  ha !  ha !  —  you 
meant  it."  He  held  out  his  hand.  "  Are  you  aware 
that  we  haven't  shaken  hands?  I  am  delighted  to 
meet  you  again." 

She  put  her  hands  behind  her  back  and  observed 
him  suspiciously.  "  I'm  not  quite  sure  that  you 
weren't  laughing  at  me.  You're  assured  that  I'm  not 
flirting  with  you?  " 


40  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

"  Why  should  you  flirt  with  me  —  when  Warren 
Blake  is  in  town?  " 

Suspicion  broke  up  in  smiles.  "  Do  you  want  to 
make  me  giggle?  Why  shouldn't  I,  since  there's  no 
one  else  in  town  but  Warren  ?  But  you're  quite  sure 
I'm  not,  aren't  you?  " 

"Quite  sure." 

"  You're  fibbing  now,  and  not  at  all  convincingly. 
But—" 

She  placed  her  hand  in  his. 

So,  while  the  golden  afternoon  waned,  they  ex 
changed  pleasant  nonsense.  His  spirits  rose  unac 
countably.  He  was  very  boyish,  very  gay.  Some 
times  they  rose  to  half-serious  discussion  that  skipped 
lightly  and  audaciously  about  from  peak  to  peak  of 
human  knowledge.  He  discovered  that  she  had  read 
Nietzsche,  at  least  enough  for  conversational  purposes, 
that  they  differed  widely  on  Ibsen  and  agreed  on 
Meredith  and  that  she  gloried  in  Wagner.  "  It  is  the 
tremendous  quality  of  his  work  over  which  people 
rave,  and  for  once  they  are  right.  Elemental  strength, 
the  grandeur  of  primitive  passion,  for  good  or  ill,  just 
about  describes  it.  You  agree?"  Out  of  his  scant 
acquaintance  with  the  composer  in  question  he  agreed, 
smiling  at  her  enthusiasm.  She  had  traveled  much 
with  her  father,  who,  it  appeared,  had  "  really  learned 
how  to  travel,"  having  to  make  the  most  of  his  lim 
ited  leisure.  She  knew  places  not  starred  in  Baedeker, 
quaint,  obscure  corners  of  the  earth,  full  of  color. 
John  helped  out  this  part  of  the  talk  with  questions 
more  or  less  intelligent.  She  was  pleased  to  com 
mend  his  interest. 

"  One   could   almost  believe  you   had   been  there. 


SUNSET  41 

You  would  enjoy  these  places,  I  know.  Not  every 
one  does.  I'd  love  to  visit,  not  do,  them  with  you 
sometime." 

"  I'd  like  to,  very  much.  But,"  he  answered  sim 
ply,  "  I'm  afraid  it  will  be  a  long,  long  time  before  I 
can  afford  it." 

She  turned  and  surveyed  him  thoughtfully.  "  Now 
I  like  that  —  the  way  you  said  it,  I  mean.  Most  of 
the  men  I've  met  lately  have  lots  of  money.  The 
ones  who  haven't  are  always  making  a  poor  mouth 
about  being  hard  up,  as  though  they  were  half  ashamed 
of  it  and  entirely  detested  it.  But  you  spoke  of  it  in 
such  a  matter-of-fact  way,  as  though  the  lack  or  pos 
session  of  money  were  really  of  no  great  importance 
to  you." 

"  It  slipped  out,"  he  confessed.  "  I  don't  like  to 
seem  to  pose.  I  make  enough  for  my  immediate 
needs,  of  course,  and  some  day  I  expect  to  have  more 
—  though  not  wealth  as  you  probably  measure  it. 
But  I  honestly  think  money,  in  large  quantities  that 
is,  isn't  really  important.  At  least,  I  haven't  found  it 
so  yet." 

"  I've  wondered  about  that  sometimes  —  whether 
it  is  really  important  to  me,  I  mean.  I'm  not  sure. 
I  do  like  the  things  it  buys.  But  even  more  I  like  to 
think  of  the  power  it  represents.  It's  that,  and  the 
game  of  getting  it,  that  makes  men  want  money  in  large 
quantities.  Don't  you  think  so?" 

"  I  have  heard  so,"  he  answered  cautiously. 

"But  you  don't  agree?" 

He  remembered  certain  rumors  he  had  heard  con 
cerning  Stephen  Hampden's  rise  to  wealth  and  he  put 
a  guard  upon  his  lips. 


42  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

"  I  don't  know  much  about  it,  I  fear,"  which  was 
entirely  true. 

"  You  may  bring  yourself  to  date,"  she  said. 

"  There  isn't  much  to  tell.  After  college  I  went  to 
law  school,  then  settled  here.  The  family  name,  and 
father's  being  judge,  helped  me  to  a  quick  start,  I  sup 
pose.  Since  then  I  have  done  about  as  well  as  the 
average  young  lawyer  in  a  small  town.  That  is  all. 
It  is  very  commonplace." 

"Hamlet  minus  Hamlet,  of  course.  It  doesn't  ex 
plain  why  you  are  wanted  by  a  whole  county." 

"  You  have  that  from  the  Globe"  he  smiled. 

"  But  I  have  heard  it  from  other  sources  since. 
Why  do  they  want  you  ?  "  she  persisted. 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  answered  veraciously.  "  I 
don't  even  know  that  they  want  me.  It  is  to  be 
proven." 

"  I'd  find  that  out  quickly,"  she  said  thoughtfully. 
"  And  why.  It's  your  chance  to  escape  the  common 
place,  isn't  it?  Popularity  means  power,  and  power 
is  splendid  always  —  I'm  primitive,  you  see.  I 
would  use  it,  revel  in  it,  make  it  lift  me  into  the  high 
places.  Dad  says  every  one  believes  you  have  a  big 
future.  Which  is  good  evidence  that  you  have  a  big 
future,  isn't  it?" 

"  The  wisdom  of  twenty-three ! "  he  laughed. 

"  O,  if  you  won't  take  me  seriously  — !  Just  as  I 
was  preparing  to  plan  your  future  so  nicely,  too.  If 
we  are  to  be  good  friends  —  we  are,  aren't  we  ?  —  you 
mustn't  try  to  hold  me  off  when  I  seem  to  take  a  too 
intimate  interest  in  your  affairs.  I  have  an  unfor 
tunate  propensity  for  that  sort  of  thing  —  and  I  like 
it.  Dad  says  I  have  the  most  intrusively  executive 


SUNSET  43 

mind  he  ever  met.  He  is  very  nice  about  it.  He 
often  asks  me  what  I  think  of  things  and  men — " 

"  And  then  forms  his  own  opinions  ?  " 

"  That,"  she  sighed,  "  is  the  disappointing  fact." 

"Did  you  plan  that?"  He  pointed  to  a  grove  of 
trees  on  the  crest  of  East  Ridge,  through  which 
gleamed  the  white  stucco  walls  of  that  palatial  resi 
dence  so  frequently  mentioned  in  the  Globe. 

"Yes.     Do  you  like  it?" 

"  I  haven't  seen  it  except  at  a  distance.  Er  —  are 
you  building  an  institution  for  the  blind?  " 

She  laughed  gaily. 

"  Not  unless  dad's  belief  in  his  perspicacity,  which  I 
share,  is  without  justification.  But  please  don't 
poke  fun  at  it.  I'm  rather  proud  of  it.  I'll  take  you 
there  some  day  and  you  shall  see  for  yourself." 

"But  why,"  still  pointing,  "in  New  Chelsea?" 

"Why  not?"  she  argued  with  spirit.  "Aren't 
our  hills  as  beautiful  as  the  Berkshires,  and  the  air  as 
fine?  Why  shouldn't  we  enjoy  the  place  the  money 
comes  from?  Dad  says  a  lot  of  money  is  to  come 
from  this  valley  in  the  next  few  years." 

His  face  became  suddenly  grave.  Thinking  of  her 
last  words,  he  looked  down  at  the  quaint,  old-fash 
ioned,  drowsing  town  that  lay  at  the  foot  of  the  knob. 
Then  his  gaze  wandered  out  to  the  green  slopes  of  the 
valley,  turning  yellow  in  squares  under  the  warm  kiss 
of  the  sun.  It  swept  for  miles  before  him,  seem 
ing  shut  off  from  the  world  by  the  rampart  of  the 
hills;  yet,  he  knew,  one  could  sit  in  a  canoe  and  float 
from  the  valley  to  the  southern  gulf.  By  the  same 
trail  over  which  sons  of  New  Chelsea  had  gone  out, 
the  world,  even  then  threatening  —  far  away  across 


44  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

the  hills  hovered  a  perennial  cloud,  smoke  of  Plum- 
ville's  mills  —  might  invade,  with  its  tumult  and  haste, 
its  fever  for  conquest.  Already  it  was  being  whis 
pered  that  the  sudden  return  of  the  captain  of  finance, 
the  building  of  the  big  house  with  its  air  of  perma 
nence,  were  not  without  commercial  significance. 
John  was  a  young  man  given  to  sentiment.  His  first 
impulse  was  to  protest  against  what  seemed  an  immi 
nent  desecration  of  the  lazy,  restful  beauty  of  the 
valley. 

"  I  was  thinking  of  New  Chelsea,"  he  said  dryly. 
"  So  the  old  order  changeth.  The  world  of  fashion 
and  finance  comes  aknocking  at  our  door.  Our  peace 
ful  valley  is  to  be  exploited." 

"  Is  there  any  virtue  in  closing  one's  door  to  prog 
ress?" 

"  Are  we  not  progressive  ?  Main  Street  is  being 
paved.  We  are  to  have  a  new  station  in  the  fall.  And 
there  is  talk  of  building  a  new  court-house." 

"  You're  a  very  frivolous  person,  I  see !  That  is 
the  cry  of  inertia.  Why  shouldn't  a  community  make 
the  most  of  itself,  just  as  a  man  wants  to  make  a  big 
place  for  himself?" 

And'  he  was  silenced,  recalling  words  of  his  own. 

She  rose  and  stood  gazing  out  over  the  valley. 
"Look!"  The  line  of  shadow,  flung  by  the  knob 
athwart  the  slope  of  its  neighbor,  had  passed  the  last 
terrace  of  East  Ridge.  Like  a  runner  finishing  his 
race,  it  seemed  to  gather  added  speed  as  it  neared  the 
summit. 

"  Can't  you  see  the  world  moving  —  and  New  Chel 
sea  with  it?  " 


SUNSET  45 

He  was  not  looking  at  the  shadow  but  at  her, 
silhouetted  against  the  sky,  strong  with  the  strength 
of  women  whose  fathers  have  toiled  close  to  the  soil, 
eager,  palpitating  with  life,  for  life.  He  could  see 
the  profile  of  her  face,  a  hint  too  firm  for  mere 
beauty;  the  masses  of  brown  hair  with  its  tint  of 
flame,  the  fearless,  level-gazing  gray  eyes,  the  eager, 
confident  poise  of  her  head.  He  wondered  curiously 
what  manner  of  woman  she  was  —  or  might  become 
—  with  her  girlish  inconsequence,  her  veneer  of  mem 
orized  information,  her  superficial,  haphazard  read 
ing,  her  unconsciously  amusing  air  as  she  lightly  dis 
posed  of  problems  that  had  baffled  the  ages,  beneath 
all  of  which  he  sensed  an  abounding  vitality ;  and  what 
lay  under  the  precocious  hardness  that  could  see  only 
the  picturesque  in  a  ramshackle,  poverty-stricken  Ital 
ian  village  and  could  dismiss  with  a  careless  laugh  the 
fate  of  a  chick  in  a  hawk's  clutches. 

The  line  of  shadow  passed  the  summit  of  East 
Ridge;  the  valley  lay  in  twilight.  They  watched  un 
til  the  sun  sank.  The  blue  haze  of  the  distant  hills 
became  purple,  black.  Already  a  thin  ribbon  of  rising 
mist  marked  the  course  of  the  river.  Into  the  western 
sky  were  flung  the  emblazoned  banners  of  the  dying 
day. 

"  Shall  we  go  down?" 

Together  they  went  slowly  down  into  the  valley 
and  its  twilight. 

"  We  have  now  seen,"  she  said,  "  a  sunrise  and  a 
sunset  together." 

"  '  And  the  evening  and  the  morning  were  the  first 
day/  "  he  quoted  smilingly. 


46  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

"  I  wonder  what  the  next  day  holds." 

"  Aunt  Roberta,"  he  laughed,  "  hopes  that  I'll  fall 
in  love  with  you." 

"  How  perfectly  absurd !  Although  it  might  redress 
the  balance.  Unless,"  she  added  demurely,  "  I  should 
suffer  a  return  of  my  youthful  malady." 

"  Which  would  be  doubly  absurd.  It's  like  chicken- 
pox.  Having  had  one  attack,  you  are  thereafter  im 
mune." 

They  laughed  gaily. 

On  the  terrace  little  tables  were  set  and  John  re 
newed  his  acquaintance  with  Stephen  Hampden,  a 
short,  stocky,  pleasant-voiced  man,  who  in  no  way  re 
sembled  the  marauding  pirate  that  rumor  had  him; 
also  with  Mrs.  Hampden,  a  lady  who  toiled  not  nor 
spun,  but  was  always  tired  and  talked  in  a  languid, 
honeyed  voice.  There  were  also  Warren  Blake,  sol 
emn  and  handsome;  and  his  mother,  a  shy,  faded  old 
woman,  frightened  in  the  presence  of  "  society  folk," 
and  not  altogether  happy  in  the  Sunday  splendor  of 
best  black  silk  and  bonnet.  After  the  interruption, 
Mrs.  Hampden  continued  her  drawling  explanation 
to  Warren,  a  patient  listener,  that  one  needn't  be  in 
Newport  before  August  and  that  really,  since  England 
had  discovered  American  society,  that  gilded  resort 
and  its  sisters,  Lenox  and  Tuxedo,  were  become  as 
English  as  Bath.  She  went  on,  however,  to  inform 
him  that  Newport  would  be  deprived  of  the  Hamp- 
dens'  presence  that  summer,  because  she  had  the  new 
house  to  open  and,  moreover,  preferred  to  remain 
with  her  husband,  who  had  important  business  matters 
to  oversee. 


SUNSET  47 

"  She  means,"  Katherine  whispered,  "  that  dad 
caught  a  tartar  in  Wall  Street." 

Thereafter  Warren  was  left  to  the  tender  mercies 
of  his  hostess,  Hampden  strove  to  put  Mrs.  Blake  at 
her  ease,  and  John  and  Katherine  flirted  outrageously 
at  their  table,  whither  Warren  cast  occasional  furtive 
glances.  Later  the  Blakes  rose  to  leave ;  Warren  with 
surprising  tact  covering  the  awkwardness  of  his 
mother's  farewells,  and  then,  unostentatiously  gentle, 
escorting  her  away. 

Hampden  caught  his  wife  yawning  daintily.  "  Well, 
Maria,  since  you're  so  tired,  we  might  as  well  go  in 
and  leave  these  young  people  to  themselves.  The 
chaperon  has  no  standing  in  New  Chelsea.  We've 
got  to  remember  how  the  old  folks  used  to  let  us  alone 
when  we  were  sparking."  He  grinned  wickedly  at 
Katherine  whose  composure  was  not  ruffled  in  the 
slightest. 

"  Stephen,  don't  be  vulgar,"  his  wife  rebuked  him 
sighingly.  After  a  languid  good  night  to  John  she 
went,  with  an  air  of  utter  weariness,  into  the  house. 

Hampden,  however,  for  the  space  of  one  cigar,  re 
mained  on  the  terrace,  chatting  pleasantly,  during 
which  time  John  discovered  that  even  Steve  Hampden, 
hard  driver  of  men  and  daring  speculator,  had  a  very 
likable  side  and  took  a  mighty  pride  in  his  daughter. 
When  the  cigar  had  been  tossed  away,  Hampden  rose, 
shaking  hands  cordially  with  John. 

"  I'd  better  take  my  own  advice.  I  have  to  work 
to-morrow,  but  don't  you  miss  this  fairy  night.  Come 
around  often,  John.  And  don't  let  this  girl  flirt  the 
head  from  your  shoulders." 


48  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

"  I'm  already  fearful  for  my  peace  of  mind,"  John 
laughed.  "  But  I  shall  come  often,  thank  you." 

Afterward,  while  the  moon  crawled  almost  to  mid- 
sky,  he  and  Katherine  sat  in  a  pleasant  intimacy  tha<\ 
speeded  by  the  moonlight,  traveled  far,  listening  to  the 
hymn  of  the  night  intoned  by  the  crickets  and  whisper 
ing  leaves.  He  went  home  at  last,  in  high  good  hu 
mor  with  the  world  and  the  people  in  it. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  NAZARITE 

TT  would  be  evidence  of  an  officious  surveillance  to 
•*•  set  down  here  just  how  often  John  Dunmeade 
journeyed  to  the  ugly  house  behind  the  hedge;  it  was 
not,  however,  thanks  to  the  duties  of  his  candidacy, 
as  often  as  he  would  have  liked.  There  were  occa 
sional  tennis  matches  in  which  he  was  hard  pushed  to 
defeat  her.  Golden  flecks  appeared  on  Katherine's 
cheeks  and  nose,  and  she  discovered  that  her  endur 
ance  was  greater  than  his. 

"  You  smoke  too  much,"  she  told  him  one  day  with 
that  air  of  finality  which  she  employed  to  voice  obvi 
ous  truths.  "  One  should  always  be  in  training. 
Health  is  so  important  to  a  man  who  wants  to  do  big 
things." 

He  cut  down  his  smoking  to  four  pipes  a  day. 

But  there  were  other  matters  demanding  the  atten 
tion  of  John  Dunmeade,  Republican  nominee  for  the 
office  of  district  attorney  by  grace  of  the  bosses' 
choice.  For  he  saw  an  army,  whose  discipline  and 
weapons  and  effectiveness  caused  him  to  wonder,  go 
forth  to  war.  Not  with  pomp  and  panoply  —  that 
was  to  come  later;  this  was  the  time  for  scout  and 
reconnaissance,  for  the  drawing  of  maps,  the  seizing 
of  strategic  positions  and  for  numbering  the  enemy. 
The  enemy  —  the  people  —  John  perceived,  made  no 

49 


50  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

counter  preparations,  did  not  even  see  the  necessity. 
Like  many  another  man  he  began  to  feel  the  signifi 
cance  of  an  institution  to  which  he  had  grown  used 
only  when  he  had  an  immediate  personal  interest  in  it. 
And  the  campaign  was  one  of  conquest,  and  the  army 
was  paid  as  Napoleon  paid  the  soldiers  of  his  army 
of  Italy. 

Jeremy  Applegate  one  day  gave  John  a  new  point 
of  view.  Jeremy  was  an  old  soldier,  a  cripple,  and  a 
clerk  in  the  recorder's  office.  Of  such  as  Jeremy,  Sen 
ator  Murchell  once  said  cynically,  "  Fill  the  jobs  with 
cripples.  A  cripple  will  get  as  many  votes  as  five  big, 
husky  fellows  who  ought  to  be  doing  a  man's  work." 

"  I'm  almighty  glad,"  said  Jeremy,  "  that  for  once 
I've  got  to  work  for  a  man  I  got  some  respect  for." 

"  You  don't  have  to  work  for  me,  Jeremy,  though 
I  hope  you  will." 

"  Don't  have  to  — !  Where'd  my  job  be,  if  I  didn't 
work  for  the  ticket?" 

Then  the  smoldering  resentment  found  voice. 
Jeremy  grumbled,  as  soldiers  sometimes  will. 

"  I'm  a  pretty  specimen  of  citizen,  ain't  I?  "  he  ex 
claimed  bitterly.  "  I  got  a  job.  It  ain't  a  Republican, 
it's  a  county  job.  Democrats  help  to  pay  my  salary. 
Why've  I  got  it  —  because  I'm  fit  for  it  ?  Guess  you 
lawyers  that  have  to  read  my  kinky  handwrite  know 
better'n  that.  It's  because  I'm  an  old  soldier  and  a 
peg-leg  and  the  kind  of  shrimp  that'll  go  round  whinin' 
to  his  friends  about  his  job  so's  to  get  them  to  vote  the 
ticket.  Yessir,  I'm  that  kind.  I  fit  for  my  country  all 
right,  but  I  did  it  because  it  was  my  duty,  not  so's  to 
be  able  tc  get  a  job  and  beg  for  votes  afterwards.  I 
was  a  man  then.  Now  I'm  a  parasite.  For  nigh  onto 


THE  NAZARITE  51 

twenty  years  I've  done  it,  because  I  can't  make  a  livin' 
any  other  way,  for  good  men  and  bad  men,  for  them 
I  can  respect  —  mostly  for  them  I  can't  respect.  I 
ain't  allowed  a  mind  of  my  own  ner  a  conscience  and 
every  time  I  go  campaignin'  I  feel  like  a  pup.  Do 
you  know  what  it  is?  It's  hell,  that's  what  it  is." 

"  What  we  need,"  said  John,  "  is  civil  service." 

"  Civil  service !  They've  got  civil  service  in  the 
post-office.  Did  you  ever  hear  of  a  postmaster  or  his 
clerk  that  wasn't  in  politics?  They've  got  to  be  in  and 
stay  in,  or  they  couldn't  get  or  keep  their  jobs. 
There  ain't  any  way  out  of  it,"  he  sighed.  "  If  I 
quit,  they'd  find  another  shrimp.  And  if  somebody 
licked  us  and  took  this  office  from  us,  they'd  fire  me 
and  put  in  some  feller  that'd  do  the  same  as  me. 
There  ain't  any  chance  for  a  man  to  serve  his  country 
these  days.  It's  rotten,  that's  what  it  is  —  rotten !  " 

He  turned  away,  mumbling  to  himself. 

But  a  grumbling  soldier  often  is  a  good  fighter; 
witness  Jeremy  on  a  scouting  expedition.  It  begins 
at  the  establishment  of  Silas  Hicks,  liveryman. 
Jeremy,  being  a  peg-leg,  can  not  tramp  the  weary 
miles  ahead  of  him. 

Silas  grins  knowingly  as  he  receives  his  patron. 
"  Campaign  started,  eh  ?  " 

"  Uh-huh !  "  Jeremy  sighs. 

"  I'll  give  you  old  Kim."  Silas  leads  out  a  raw- 
boned,  ancient,  white  steed.  "  Kim,  he  oughta  draw 
a  salary  from  the  organization.  That  there  horse'll 
smell  out  a  Republican  an'  shy  at  a  Democrat  every 
time,  he's  been  out  campaignin'  that  often.  Yessir! 
Looks  to  me,"  he  adds  inquiringly,  "  as  if  Johnny 
Dunmeade'll  have  a  walk-over." 


52  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

"It's  the  state  ticket  that'll  make  the  trouble." 
Jeremy  sighs  again. 

He  drives  out  into  the  country,  brow-wrinkled  as  he 
marshals  his  arguments.  He  has  no  eyes  for  the 
calm  beauty  of  the  afternoon.  He  pulls  in  the  jog 
ging  horse  beside  a  field  in  the  middle  of  which  a  man 
is  seen  driving  a  hay-rake.  In  response  to  Jeremy's 
hail  the  man  descends  from  his  seat  and  walks  slowly 
over  to  the  fence. 

"  Howdy,  comrade,"  says  Jeremy. 

"  Howdy,  Jeremy." 

"  Good  harvestin'  weather." 

"  Purty  good,"  comrade  agrees.  There  is  not  a 
cloud  in  the  sky. 

"Smoke?"  suggests  Jeremy.  From  a  bulging 
pocket  he  draws  forth  a  cigar  girdled  by  a  gaudy  red- 
and-gold  band.  They  are  very  good  cigars,  costing 
ten  dollars  the  hundred.  At  home  repose  three  boxes 
of  them,  recently  purchased.  Jeremy  has  needed  a 
new  suit  and  his  wife  a  new  dress  for  more  than  a 
year.  These  luxuries,  however,  must  be  postponed 
for  the  purchase  of  ammunition.  For  this  is  war; 
and  Jeremy,  as  we  have  seen,  subscribes  to  General 
Sherman's  definition. 

The  farmer  holds  the  cigar  to  his  nose,  sniffing  ap 
provingly.  "  I'll  keep  it  till  after  supper."  He  de 
posits  it  carefully  on  the  bottom  rail  of  the  fence  be 
side  his  water- jug. 

Jeremy  resojrts  again  to  the  bulging  pocket.  "  Keep 
that  and  smoke  this  now,"  he  offers  generously.  The 
farmer  lights  the  cigar.  From  another  pocket  Jeremy 
draws  forth  his  own  weed.  This  pocket  is  not  so  well 


THE  NAZARITE  53 

filled  and  contains  only  "  three-fers "  for  Jeremy's 
own  consumption. 

After  further  preliminaries  Jeremy  opens  fire. 

"  S'pose  you're  goin'  to  git  into  line  this  fall,  same 
as  ever,  comrade?"  he  remarks  casually. 

The  farmer  leans  on  the  fence  in  an  attitude  suited 
to  comfortable  argument.  "  Well,  I  don't  know's  I 
am." 

"  With  Johnny  Dunmeade  on  the  ticket !  " 

"  I'll  vote  for  him.  He's  all  right.  Does  my  law 
work.  I  don't  think  much  of  the  state  ticket,  though." 

"You  ain't  goin'  back  on  the  party,  are  you?" 
Jeremy  cries  reproachfully. 

"  I  might.     Don't  know  yet." 

Forthwith  Jeremy  launches  into  a  passionate  de 
fense  of  the  Republican  party,  in  which  the  tariff  and 
the  single  gold  standard  are  freely  mentioned.  Refer 
ence  is  made  also  to  the  days  when  comrade  and  he 
shared  blankets  together  on  the  red  soil  of  Virginia. 
He  talks  rapidly,  dreading  to  hear  the  argument  which 
he  can  not  answer.  Comrade  is  not  unimpressed  but 
is  far  from  conviction. 

"  Well,  I  don't  know,"  he  says  slowly.  And  then 
brings  forth  the  thing  that  has  been  haunting  Jeremy's 
nights  and  days.  "  I'm  bothered  some  about  that  trust 
company  business.  Looks  to  me  as  if  some  of  Mur- 
chell's  politicians  was  at  the  bottom  of  it.  When  they 
git  to  foolin'  with  our  banks,  it's  time  to  make  a 
change.  If  we  let  'em  go  on,  how'm  I  to  know  that 
my  bank  ain't  mixed  up  with  'em?  " 

There  is  a  silence,  while  Jeremy  braces  himself  for 
his  duty.  "  I  know.  It  —  it's  been  botherin'  me,  too. 


54  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

But,"  he  looks  away  and  tries  manfully  to  keep  the 
whine  out  of  his  voice,  "  I'm  askin'  you  as  a  favor  to 
me  to  overlook  it.  They've  served  notice  on  me  that 
I've  got  to  bring  in  my  list  for  the  whole  ticket  or  my 
job  goes.  You  —  you're  on  my  list,  comrade."  Into 
Jeremy's  eyes  comes  the  look  of  a  whipped  dog. 

There  is  another  silence,  a  longer  one,  while  the 
farmer  chews  his  cigar  reflectively. 

"  Well,"  he  says  at  last,  "  I'd  like  to  do  ye  a  favor, 
Jeremy.  I'll  think  it  over." 

"  Yes,"  answers  Jeremy,  "  think  it  over.  It  means 
a  good  deal  to  me. —  Well,  I  guess  I'll  be  moseyin' 
along." 

But  while  Jeremy,  protesting,  accepts  his  tragi 
comic  serfdom,  another  —  more  important  to  this 
chronicle  —  is  patiently  weaving  his  destiny. 

Many  years  before  there  had  come  to  New  Chelsea  a 
shepherd  to  lead  the  Presbyterian  flock  and  to  die, 
leaving  his  wife,  a  shy,  plain  little  woman,  and  her 
son,  to  struggle  with  the  problem  of  existence.  She 
must  have  struggled  effectively,  for  New  Chelsea 
bears  witness  that  never  was  recourse  had  to  its  ready 
charity.  Some  credit  must  be  given  to  the  son  who, 
when  public  school-days  were  over,  bent  himself  to  the 
problem:  a  moon- faced  lad  who  blinked  uncompre- 
hendingly  at  the  teasing  and  pranks  of  his  former 
schoolmates.  Slow,  patient,  unobtrusive,  of  the  sort 
that  despite  sundry  time-honored  maxims  usually  finds 
recognition  reluctant,  he  yet  won  it  quickly. 

When  those  of  his  generation  whose  fathers  had 
been  able  to  provide  a  college  education  returned  on 
the  threshold  of  manhood  to  begin  life,  they  found 
Warren  Blake  already,  in  the  eyes  of  his  neighbors,  a 


THE  NAZARITE  55 

success,  assistant  cashier  of  the  bank  and  owner  of 
certain  small  mortgages ;  but  not  at  all  boastful  over  it. 
He  continued,  even  when  he  became  cashier,  modestly 
unaware  that  he  had  become  a  model  young  man; 
willing  to  say,  "  I  don't  know,"  when  the  fact  war 
ranted  the  admission  and  equally  willing  to  fill  the 
gaps  of  his  knowledge.  It  was  said  that  he  had  no  im 
agination  and  was  without  a  philosophy  of  life;  which, 
since  he  was  a  success,  was  probably  untrue.  He  was 
a  literal  man  who  took  all  things  seriously,  his  duty 
to  his  bank,  his  treasurership  of  the  Presbyterian 
Church,  even  the  matter  of  clothes,  of  which  — 
through  close  observation  in  hotel  lobbies  and  pains 
taking  study  of  certain  magazines  devoted  to  the  sar 
torial  art  —  he  had  acquired  a  discriminating  knowl 
edge  ;  this  last,  as  his  only  outward  evidence  of  vanity, 
New  Chelsea  after  a  period  of  suspicious  hesitation 
forgave.  He  was  rarely  known  to  laugh. 

After  thirty-five  years'  acquaintance  New  Chelsea 
had  found  no  explanation  of  him;  it  was  admitted  that 
even  Judge  Dunmeade,  who  had  a  liking  for  sonorous 
phrases,  had  failed  with  his  "  triumph  of  the  com 
monplace  virtues."  And  it  continued  to  choose  War 
ren  Blake  as  treasurer  for  those  organizations  requir 
ing  such  an  officer,  executor  of  its  last  wills  and  testa 
ments  and  trustee  of  its  estates;  of  which  trusts  he 
always  rendered  prompt  and  exact  accounts. 

And  now,  all  New  Chelsea  knew,  he  and  Stephen 
Hampden  were  organizing  a  company  of  fabulous  cap 
italization  to  work  the  coal-fields. 

One  morning  in  mid-July  Warren  was  as  usual  at 
his  desk.  The  day  had  already  become  hot  and 
stifling.  The  clerks  at  the  counter  grumbled  pro- 


56  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

fanely  at  the  rule,  promulgated  by  Warren,  that  for 
bade  them  to  appear  coatless,  and  glanced  enviously 
through  the  plate-glass  partition  at  the  cashier,  very 
handsome  and  cool-looking  in  his  light  gray  suit,  socks 
and  necktie  to  match.  He  was  reading,  with  a  slow 
care  that  overlooked  no  syllable,  the  papers  on  the  desk. 
When  he  had  read  them  he  arranged  them  in  two  neat 
little  piles  which  he  labeled  "  Options  Granted  "  and 
"  Options  Refused." 

As  this  task  was  completed  Stephen  Hampden  en 
tered  the  bank  with  a  pleasant  nod  in  reply  to  the 
clerks'  respectful  greeting.  He  made  his  way  into  the 
cashier's  office. 

"  Phew ! "  he  whistled,  drawing  a  chair  up  to  the 
desk.  "  It's  a  hot  day,  isn't  it?  How  do  you  manage 
to  keep  so  cool  ?  " 

"  By  not  thinking  about  the  heat."  Warren  opened 
a  drawer  and  drew  forth  a  box  of  cigars,  which  he 
opened  and  proffered  to  his  visitor. 

"  Thought  you  didn't  allow  smoking  during  hours," 
said  Hampden,  selecting  a  cigar. 

"  The  clerks  aren't  president  of  the  bank."  Hamp 
den  looked  in  vain  for  an  accompanying  smile. 

"  Well,  I'll  exercise  the  presidential  prerogative." 
He  lighted  the  cigar.  "  Have  you  the  options?  " 

Warren  pushed  the  two  piles  of  documents  toward 
him.  At  one  Hampden  merely  glanced;  the  other, 
"  Options  Refused,"  he  opened  and  read  rapidly. 

"  H-m-m !  All  Deer  Township  properties.  Why 
won't  they  sign  ?  " 

"  They  want  cash,  not  stock,  for  their  coal." 

"  Did  you  point  out  to  them  the  prospective  value 
of  the  stock?  And  the  necessity  of  being  all  in  one 


THE  NAZARITE  57 

company  to  prevent  price-cutting?  And  the  oppor 
tunity  to  improve  the  community  by  opening  up  a  new 
business?  " 

"  I  did.  But  we're  not  trying  to  improve  the  com 
munity,  we're  trying  to  make  money  for  ourselves." 

"  I'm  afraid,  Warren,  you  were  the  wrong  man  to 
send  after  those  options." 

"  I  was,"  said  Warren  calmly.  "  I  told  you  so  at 
first.  I'm  not  a  clever  talker." 

"  I  don't  want  to  tie  up  any  more  cash  in  this  than 
I  have  to.  How  would  it  work  to  send  John  Dun- 
meade  after  those  options?  We  could  make  him  at 
torney  for  us  and  the  company  and  give  him  stock. 
What  do  you  think?" 

Warren  took  several  minutes  to  consider  this  sug 
gestion.  "  He  can  do  it  if  any  one  can,"  he  said  at 
last.  "  He  is  very  popular  among  the  farmers. 
Everybody  likes  him.  I  like  him,  too,  though  he  is 
always  laughing  at  me." 

"  Eh?  Why  does  he  laugh  at  you?  "  Hampden  in 
quired. 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  Warren  evenly.  "  I 
shall  ask  him  sometime.  Shall  I  send  for  him?" 

"  Yes." 

Warren  opened  the  door  and  sent  one  of  his  clerks 
with  the  message.  Then  he  sat  down,  staring  thought 
fully  at  the  smoke  from  Hampden's  cigar.  Hampden 
took  up  a  pad  and  pencil  and  began  to  make  some  cal 
culations. 

"  He  won't  do  it,"  Warren  said  suddenly. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  Hampden  looked  up  from  his  pen 
ciling. 

"He's  honest." 


58  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

"  Aren't  we  honest  ?  "  Hampden  demanded  sharply. 

"  We're  not  —  sentimental,"  Warren  answered 
calmly.  "  He  is.  We're  trying  to  take  advantage  — 
legitimately,  of  course  —  of  the  farmers  in  a  bargain. 
That's  the  thing  he  likes  to  fight." 

"  Not  at  all,"  Hampden  contradicted  coldly.  "  This 
is  a  straight  business  proposition.  And  I  guess  he'll 
not  be  sentimental  when  we  offer  him,  say,  ten  thou 
sand  —  in  stock.  We  can  let  him  have  that  much 
without  losing  control.  I've  never  noticed  anything 
of  the  fool  in  John  Dunmeade.  Even  though,"  he 
added,  "  he  sometimes  laughs  at  you,  Warren." 

Warren  ignored  this  thrust.  "  I  don't  think  he'll 
take  it,"  he  insisted,  without  warmth.  "  And  he  isn't 
a  fool.  He  doesn't  need  money.  He's  the  sort  that 
people  take  to,  whether  he  has  it  or  not.  I'm  not  like 
that.  I've  got  to  have  money  to  get  people's  respect. 
You're  that  kind,  too." 

"Eh?"  Hampden  stared,  half-amused,  half-an 
gered  by  Warren's  matter-of-fact  explanation.  War 
ren  was  not  in  the  habit  of  talking  of  himself. 
"  Turned  philosopher,  have  you  ?  " 

"  No,  I  don't  philosophize.  I've  just  noticed  that," 
Warren  responded,  unmoved  by  the  sneer. 

"  You'd  better,"  said  Hampden  grimly,  "  stick  to 
banking,  where  you're  at  home." 

A  few  minutes  later  John  entered  the  bank.  Hamp 
den  greeted  him  cordially. 

"  Now  don't,"  he  protested  jocosely,  "  make  any 
comment  on  the  heat.  It's  no  use  —  you'll  get  no 
sympathy  from  Warren  here." 

"  O,"  John  laughed,  "  nothing  ever  can  put  a  wrinkle 
in  our  glass  of  fashion."  Warren  smiled  meaning- 


THE  NAZARITE  59 

lessly.  "  And  that's  not  such  a  badly-mixed  metaphor 
either,  as  you  would  know  if  you  saw  Aunt  Roberta's 
collection  of  antiques." 

"  I  know,"  Hampden  chuckled.  "  We've  had  the 
antique  fever,  too." 

Warren  listened  patiently  while  the  other  men  used 
up  a  few  minutes  in  pleasant  preliminaries.  Hamp 
den  told  cleverly  a  humorous  story  or  two  which  John 
dexterously  tossed  back  in  lively  but  respectful  jibes. 
It  can  not  be  truthfully  said  that  Warren  enjoyed  the 
play  of  humor.  He  could  never  understand  why  men, 
met  for  serious  purpose,  almost  invariably  preceded 
business  with  a  period  of  playful  fencing;  he  pre-, 
f erred  to  go  straight  to  the  point  of  the  meeting,  per 
haps  because  he  could  not  fence. 

They  came  at  last  to  the  purpose  of  John's  sum 
mons. 

"  I  suppose  you've  heard  of  our  coal  proposition?  " 
Hampden  suggested. 

"  Yes." 

"  There  will  be  a  good  deal  of  legal  work  in  con 
nection  with  it.  Is  there  room  among  your  clients  for 
one  more  ?  " 

"  I  might  find  room,"  said  John  soberly,  "  with  a 
little  crowding."  Warren,  aware  that  this  was  hu 
morously  intended,  permitted  himself  to  smile. 

In  a  few  rapid,  terse  sentences  Hampden  outlined 
his  plan  of  organization.  Mindful  of  Warren's  pre 
diction  and  seeing  John's  face  grow  gravely  dubious, 
he  endeavored  to  make  his  explanation  quite  matter- 
of-fact. 

"  Of  course,"  he  concluded,  "  you're  familiar  with 
the  details.  There  is  nothing  new  in  the  plan." 


60  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

"  We  don't  know  much  about  high  finance  in  New 
Chelsea.  But  I  read  the  papers  sometimes.  It  is  al 
most  a  classic,  I  should  say,"  John  replied. 

"  Substantially  the  plan  of  all  promotions,"  Hamp- 
den  agreed. 

"  Let's  see  if  I  get  you  right.  You  take  the  options 
in  your  own  name,  agreeing  to  pay  for  the  coal  in 
stock  of  your  company.  Then  you  agree  to  turn  the 
properties  over  to  the  company  for  a  little  more  than 
twice  this  consideration,  out  of  which  you  pay  the 
farmers.  This  gives  you  control  of  the  company  that 
owns  the  coal,  and  it  hasn't  cost  you  a  cent.  The 
money  for  development  and  operating  you  lend  the 
company,  taking  as  security  first  mortgage  bonds." 
He  hesitated,  looking  directly  at  Hampden.  "  That 
hardly  gives  the  farmers  a  square  deal,  does  it  ?  " 

The  pupils  of  Hampden's  eyes  contracted  suddenly. 
"  Certainly  it  does,"  he  answered  with  some  emphasis, 
"  since  it  converts  properties  that  have  been  eating 
themselves  up  in  taxes  into  a  producing  proposition. 
I  didn't  say,"  he  added  carelessly,  "  that  your  fee 
ought,  in  my  opinion,  to  be  about  ten  thousand  —  in 
stock." 

"Worth  how  much?" 

"  Worth  par,"  Hampden  answered  with  conviction. 
"  Eventually." 

"  Phew !  You  haven't  impressed  me  as  a  man  who 
would  pay  city  prices  for  country  butter,  Mr.  Hamp 
den,"  John  replied  thoughtfully.  "  Just  why  so 
much?" 

"  You  will  be  expected  to  earn  it,"  said  Hampden 
dryly.  "  Are  you  in  the  habit  of  questioning  fees  be 
cause  they  are  large  ?  " 


THE  NAZARITE  61 

"  I'm  not  in  the  habit  of  getting  large  fees.  Only 
I'm  not  quite  clear  how  you  expect  me  to  earn  a  fee 
of  ten  thousand  in  stock  worth  par  —  eventually." 

"  The  usual  legal  matters  —  charter,  organization, 
conveyances  and  so  on.  And,"  casually,  "  helping  us 
to  sign  up  the  Deer  Township  properties." 

"  They  don't  like  the  proposition  ?  " 

"  They're  the  only  ones  who  haven't  accepted  it. 
They  seem  to  be  holding  out  under  the  advice  of  this 
fellow  —  Cranshawe,  is  it?  "  Warren  nodded.  "  We 
think  you  can  swing  them  into  line." 

"  I  see,"  said  John  thoughtfully.  His  brow  wrinkled 
in  a  troubled  fashion,  as  he  gazed  reflectively  out  at  the 
clerks  sweltering  behind  the  cage.  Hampden  and 
Warren  waited  patiently  for  his  answer. 

At  last  he  raised  his  eyes  to  Hampden's.  "  I'm 
sorry  —  but  I  can't  do  it." 

"Why  not?"  Hampden  demanded. 

"  This  fellow  Cranshawe  happens  to  be  a  good  deal 
of  a  man.  He  and  his  neighbors  are  clients  of  mine  in 
a  small  way  —  and  friends  also,  I  think.  They  do 
me  the  honor  to  trust  me.  I  shouldn't  care  to  advise 
them  in  this  matter." 

"Why  not?"  Hampden  demanded  again. 

"  Let  us  say,"  John  smiled,  "  that  I  am  in  politics 
and  don't  want  to  complicate  my  vote-getting." 

"  That  isn't  your  reason." 

"  Well,"  John  said  regretfully,  "  if  you  will  have  it, 
it  isn't  a  proposition  that  I  can  conscientiously  recom 
mend." 

"You  impeach  my  honesty?" 

"  I  do  not  go  so  far,  sir.  Honesty  is  a  matter  of 
intent.  I  think  I  understand  your  point  of  view  — 


62  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

that  you  will  convert  their  idle  coal,  as  you  say,  into  an 
income  property,  and  by  starting  a  new  industry  will 
indirectly  benefit  the  whole  valley.  Which  is  probably 
true.  But  the  point  is  that  the  coal,  the  one  indis 
pensable  element  in  the  situation,  is  theirs,  and  in  re 
turn  for  it  they  should  at  least  have  control." 

"  The  coal  has  always  been  there.  We  furnish  the 
initiative  and  the  brains  and  the  money  to  make 
it  useful." 

"  I  see  that,  too.  But  don't  you  think  initiative  of 
this  sort  is  sometimes  —  er  —  overcapitalized  ?  I 
give  you  the  credit  of  possessing  a  higher  order  of 
brains  than  is  required  to  think  out  this  scheme.  As 
for  your  money,  it  is  secured,  amply  secured,  by  first 
mortgage  bonds  on  property  worth  four  times  the 
loan." 

"  Humph !  Six  per  cent,  never  made  a  rich  man. 
Do  you  know  of  any  capital  that  will  offer  better 
terms  than  I  do  ?  " 

"  I  do  not,"  John  confessed.  "  And  it  strikes  me," 
he  added  gravely,  "  that  you  are  taking  advantage  of 
that  fact  to  gouge — "  the  word  slipped  out;  he  cor 
rected  himself  hastily  — "  to  drive  a  close  bargain 
with  the  farmers." 

Hampden  abruptly  straightened  up  in  his  chair. 
"  You  may  stick  to  '  gouge.'  Do  I  understand  that 
you  refuse  the  job?  " 

"  I  have  been  trying  to  explain  my  reasons  — " 

"  I'm  not  deeply  concerned  with  your  reasons," 
Hampden  remarked  shortly.  He  picked  up  a  docu 
ment  and  pointedly  began  to  peruse  it.  Observing 
that  John  did  not  at  once  take  the  hint,  he  looked  up, 
nodding  carelessly.  "  Oh !  Good  morning  I  " 


THE  NAZARITE  63 

John  rose,  flushing  under  the  curt  dismissal,  and 
went  out  of  the  bank. 

"  I  told  you  so,"  Warren  said. 

"  Can't  you  say  anything  more  original  than  that?  " 
Hampden  exclaimed  impatiently.  Warren  couldn't; 
so  he  held  his  peace. 

"  What  I'd  like  to  know,"  Hampden  added  re 
flectively,  dropping  the  document,  "  is  why  Murchell 
let  him  be  nominated.  A  young  lawyer  who  refuses 
a  big  fee  for  sentimental  reasons  has  no  place  in  Mur- 
chell's  machine."  He  was  talking  to  himself  rather 
than  to  Warren. 

But  this  was  attacking  what  had  almost  attained  the 
sanctity  of  a  tradition,  an  institution  proudly  cherished 
by  New  Chelsea !  Even  by  Warren,  who  had  a  point 
of  view  not  shared  by  his  neighbors!  "  Murchell  is  a 
smart  man,"  Warren  was  moved  to  protest,  "  and  he 
likes  Dunmeade.  And  maybe  John  is  smart  enough 
to  guess  that  the  stock  may  be  worth  nothing  —  even 
tually." 

Hampden  looked  at  him  sharply,  but  Warren's  face 
was  as  expressionless  as  that  of  the  soldiers'  monu 
ment. 

"  Well,"  the  capitalist  remarked  philosophically, 
"  it's  Murchell's  business,  not  mine." 

That  evening  Katherine  was  to  be  found  on  the 
terrace.  She  was  looking  particularly  well,  a  fact  of 
which  she  was  not  altogether  unconscious.  Her  rest 
lessness,  the  frequency  with  which  her  eyes  turned  to 
ward  the  gap  in  the  hedge,  the  impatient  tapping  of 
her  foot^  may  be  easily  explained :  what  doth  it  profit 
to  be  beautifully  attired  when  there  is  no  one  to  admire 
the  result? 


64  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

She  wandered  aimlessly  into  the  library  where  she 
found  her  father  busy  at  his  desk  on  which  lay  a 
profusion  of  papers  and  blue-prints.  He  nodded  ab 
stractedly. 

"  Still  at  work,  Dad?  Don't  you  ever  get  tired  of 
it?" 

"  I  guess  it's  the  only  thing  I  know  how  to  do. 
My  generation  was  never  taught  to  take  pleasure 
seriously.  You  needn't  complain,  though."  He 
leaned  back  in  his  chair  and  surveyed  her  approvingly. 
"  Where  are  the  swains  ?  " 

She  yawned.  "  There  seems  to  have  been  a  dev 
astating  epidemic.  You  will  kindly  proceed  to 
amuse  me." 

"  All  this  gorgeousness  wasted !  " 

She  yawned  again.  "  I  was  rather  looking  for 
John  Dunmeade  this  evening." 

"  Hence  that  gown  and  that  stunning  new  arrange 
ment  of  the  hair?  You're  not  going  to  fall  in  love 
with  a  one-horse  country  lawyer,  are  you  ?  " 

There  was  in  her  frank,  boyish  laugh  none  of  that 
maidenly  shyness,  that  blushing  modesty  with  which 
novelists  delight  to  bedeck  their  heroines  at  the  mere 
mention  of  love.  She  sat,  knees  crossed,  on  the  arm 
of  a  chair,  her  burnished  hair  and  firm  white  shoul 
ders  gleaming  softly  under  the  bright  light  above 
them.  He  observed  her  critically;  he  was  very  proud 
of  her  and  what  his  money  had  done  for  her. 

"  It  is  not  beyond  the  bounds  of  possibility,"  she 
laughed.  "  You  know,  one  can't  love  a  man  just 
because  he  has  money,  or  social  position,  or  has  won 
distinction.  One  can  do  other  things  to  such  a  man, 
but  not  love  him  —  unless  he  has  something  else, 


THE  NAZARITE  65 

Which  axiomatic  bit  of  philosophy  isn't  original  with 
me.  So  you  needn't  consider  me  as  an  asset." 

"  I  have  never  considered  you  as  an  asset,"  he  re 
plied  honestly.  "  But  you  can  refrain  from  loving 
an  incompetent,  can't  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  suppose  that  can  be  controlled  —  so  long 
as  one  remains  on  this  side  of  a  certain  point." 

"This  side?     Stay  on  this  side,  Katherine." 

"  Is  John  an  incompetent  ? "  she  asked  thought 
fully,  and  promptly;  answered  her  own  question.  "  I 
don't  believe  it." 

"  He  is.  He  proved  it  to-day.  I  gave  him  the 
chance  to  make  some  money,  more  than  he  is  likely 
to  make  in  five  years,  and  he  turned  it  down  —  for 
sentimental  reasons !  And  the  worst  of  it  is,  he  didn't 
turn  it  down  regretfully  but  bluntly,  quite  as  though  it 
didn't  matter.  That  sort  of  man  won't  go  far." 

"  He  has  proved  it,"  she  said  thoughtfully. 

"Proved  what?" 

"  He  told  me  once  that  he  didn't  care  much  for 
money.  I  thought  then  he  wasn't  posing." 

"  And,"  Hampden  continued  the  indictment,  "  he 
virtually  called  me  a  crook." 

"Well?" 

"Well  — what?" 

"  Are  you  ?  "  And  she  added  quickly,  seeing  his 
look  of  aggrieved  astonishment,  "  But,  of  course,  I 
know  you  aren't." 

"  I  am  not,"  he  said  emphatically.  "  I  have  always 
kept  my  operations  strictly  within  the  law  and  that 
is  more  than  a  good  many  men  who  aren't  called 
crooks  can  say.  Of  course,"  he  went  on,  "  I  know 
perfectly  well  I'll  not  be  consulted  when  you  come  to 


66  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

marry.  You  will  choose  your  husband  according  to 
your  own  tastes  — " 

"  I  have  the  right,"  she  interrupted,  "  since  I  shall 
have  to  live  with  him." 

"  Unless  I  have  to  support  him !  " 

"  You  wouldn't  have  to,"  she  said  positively,  "  even 
if  he  were  poor.  I  can  do  without  luxury." 

"  You  think  you  can,"  he  answered.  "  You've 
never  had  to  try;  so  you  don't  know  how  the  habit 
of  luxury  fixes  itself  on  one.  But  even  if  you  could 
do  without  it,  you  couldn't  be  contented  with  medi 
ocrity.  You'd  want  to  be  in  the  thick  of  things,  with 
a  husband  who'd  wear  a  number  eight  hat,  who'd 
have  big  wants  and  would  put  up  a  big  fight  to  get 
what  he  wanted.  You  couldn't  be  happy  with  a  man 
who  would  be  content  to  go  moseying  through  life, 
fastidiously  rejecting  any  chance  for  advancement 
that  didn't  suit  his  antiquated  ideas.  And  if  you 
ever  took  the  bit  in  your  mouth  —  Lord  pity  you 
and  your  husband !  " 

"  Do  you  know,"  she  said  thoughtfully,  "  I've  been 
thinking  just  that.  Still,  John  Dunmeade  —  we're 
still  discussing  him,  aren't  we  ?  — •  isn't  exactly  com 
monplace.  He  really  has  brains,  and  he  is  attractive. 
In  politics  — " 

"  He  would  be  out  of  place.  You  know  nothing 
of  politics.  He'd  have  less  chance  there  than  in  busi 
ness.  Theoretically,  sentiment  and  lofty  ideals  and 
that  sort  of  thing  are  very  pretty,  but  in  fact  there's 
no  place  anywhere  nowadays  for  your  over-finical, 
sentimental  chap  unless  he  happens  to  possess  su 
preme  genius  along  some  line.  Dunmeade  doesn't  — 
he's  merely  attractive." 


THE  NAZARITE  67 

"  Most  —  unaccountably  —  attractive."  Then  she 
laughed  —  a  trifle  ruefully,  it  is  true.  "  I  wonder 
what  he  would  say,  if  he  knew  we  were  discussing 
him  so  —  he  would  be  shocked,  I  suppose.  I  am 
continually  shocking  him.  He  has  such  nice,  old- 
fashioned  ideas  about  women." 

"  About  everything,"  Hampden  supplemented. 

"  And  we  are  really  anticipating  the  event.  He 
hasn't  asked  me  to  marry  him,  and  he  doesn't  intend 
to,  I  think.  He  strongly  disapproves  of  me,  even 
while  he  likes  me.  He  wouldn't  know  what  to  do 
with  me  if  he  had  me  —  and  I'm  afraid  I  couldn't 
enlighten  him.  Heigho ! "  she  yawned  and  rose. 
"  We  haven't  been  discussing  the  matter  very  ro 
mantically,  have  we? " 

"  Matrimony,"  said  Hampden,  "  is  the  most  un- 
romantic  thing  I  know  of." 


CHAPTER  V 

EXPLORATIONS 

A  PEOPLE,  single-minded  and  not  too  critical  as 
•*  *•  to  means,  was  wooing  prosperity:  the  nation 
ruled  from  grogshop  and  magnate's  cabinet ;  the  boss, 
himself  —  let  us  do  him  justice  —  without  sense  of 
moral  obliquity,  tolerated,  respectable  almost,  as  often 
as  not  a  pillar  of  the  church;  little  boss  serving  big 
boss,  big  boss  serving  his  corporate  monarch,  this  mon 
arch  and  others  —  as  royalties  will,  since  blood  is 
thicker  than  water  and  interest  binds  closer  than  sen 
timent —  banded  in  a  secret  confederacy,  tacit  or 
explicit,  to  rule  in  perpetuum  —  with  no  one  the  wiser 
and  no  one  to  care. 

Then,  overnight  it  seemed,  the  same  people  had 
become  suspicious,  insistent,  clamorous,  lifting  red, 
fearing  eyes  from  the  muck  to  the  heavens ;  uncer 
tainly  mouthing  eternal  principles;  reaching  awk 
wardly  up  toward  ancient  ideals;  from  forgotten 
closets  bringing  forth  faded,  moth-eaten  banners; 
furbishing  old  weapons  whose  temper  and  edge  neg 
lect  had  softened  and  dulled;  listening  wonderingly 
to  the  confusion  of  tongues,  of  doctrinaire  and  quack, 
of  sophist  and  fanatic  and  patriot,  not  quite  sure 
whether  it  was  Babel  or  Pentecost,  but  hearing  amid 
the  din  the  summons  to  battle  anew  against  privilege. 

Yet  the  revelation  came  not  to  the  nation  as  to 

68 


EXPLORATIONS  69 

Saul  of  Tarsus,  in  a  great  white  light.  In  very 
orderly  fashion  it  came,  in  rigid  conformity  to  prec 
edent.  Before  the  real  leaders,  cool-headed,  far- 
seeing,  combining  caution  and  courage,  came  forward 
to  give  form  and  direction  to  the  uprising;  before 
the  clamor  was  even  a  murmur,  before  the  muck- 
raker  began  his  Augean  task,  certain  lonely  prot- 
estants  had  appeared :  young  men  mostly,  audacious 
egotists  who,  the  people  said,  thought  they  were  wiser 
and  better  than  other  men,  dared  to  criticize  what 
their  neighbors  accepted,  and  presumed  to  instruct 
their  elders.  Tailors  Ket,  if  you  please,  and  Wat 
Tylers,  Long  Will  Longlands,  even  gunpowdery 
Guy  Fawkeses,  who  could  not  always  discern  between 
institutions  and  men.  They  believed,  poor  fools !  that 
if  their  pasture  lands  were  thrown  open  and  the  mill 
stones  freed  again,  all  would  be  well  once  more. 
They  gleaned  hope  from  a  barren  soil,  uttered  their 
passionate  protest,  were  styled  for  their  pains  "  un 
practical  "  and  "  common  scolds."  In  the  end  they 
were  broken,  silenced  —  sadly  unaware  that  in  the 
subconscious  memory  of  men  the  echo  of  their  pro 
test  was  still  ringing.  They  are  forgotten  now. 

John  Dunmeade  was  a  normally  intelligent  young 
man,  healthy  of  mind  and  conscience,  who  had  never 
been  tempted,  hence  never  tested.  He  had  heard  the 
protestants  of  his  day,  of  course,  but  they  dealt  with 
problems  so  remote  from  his  own  simple  existence 
that  he  had  carelessly  accepted  his  elders'  appraisement 
of  them.  He  had  an  ingenuous  belief  in  the  greatness 
and  goodness  of  men  who  attained  high  position  in 
life:  such  men  as  Senator  Murchell.  Attacks  upon 
them  he  dismissed  as  the  splenetic  outbursts  of  disap- 


70  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

pointed  opponents;  he  had  never  had  occasion  to 
scrutinize  their  methods  closely.  His  simple  mode 
and  code  of  existence  had  not  acquainted  him  with 
the  use  and  need  of  sophistry;  he  was  not  critical  of 
temperament. 

From  his  books  and  his  dreaming  in  the  fields  he 
had  evolved  his  philosophy  of  life :  that  wealth  was 
to  be  won  only  through  industry  and  production,  that 
men  attained  distinction  only  through  genius  and  ser 
vice,  that  happiness  and  content  were  the  crown  of  fair, 
clean  living,  and  that  dishonesty,  cruelty  and  all  other 
forms  of  evil,  in  the  end  wrought  their  own  punish 
ment.  So  much  he  conceded  to  human  frailty  that,  as 
no  mere  man  since  the  fall  hath  been  able  fully  to  keep 
the  commandments  of  God,  all  men  erred  sometimes 
and  some  men  sinned  habitually;  but  he  was  willing 
to  believe  the  world  as  good  as  it  seemed  to  him  in 
the  retired  nook  in  which  his  life  had  been  cast.  All 
this,  less  naively  put  perhaps,  he  believed  and  yet  he 
was  not  a  fool.  Among  the  simple  folk  whose  lives 
overlapped  his  he  had  seen  nothing  to  teach  him  to 
dig  under  the  semblance  of  virtue. 

Yet  he  was  not  unprepared  for  what  befell.  His 
soul  had  not  been  blurred  by  too  many  impressions 
of  life.  To  the  vigorous  mentality  of  manhood  he 
brought  unimpaired  the  sensitive,  elemental  honor 
and  interrogative  habit  of  youth.  Despite  his  charity 
and  credulity,  he  was,  when  occasion  presented  itself, 
quick  to  see  the  fundamental  verities  of  the  case  — 
as  Stephen  Hampden  had  learned. 

He  was  not  unambitious,  although  the  spark  had 
smoldered  until,  apparently  from  nowhere  in  partic 
ular,  had  come  the  suggestion  of  his  nomination. 


EXPLORATIONS  71 

Then  the  passion  leaped  into  flame.  It  was  an  oppor 
tunity  to  deepen  the  course  of  his  life,  to  serve  the 
people !  When  he  perceived  the  distinct  approval  with 
which  his  neighbors  received  the  suggestion,  his  heart 
leaped  within  him.  They  were  a  good,  kind  people, 
worthy  of  the  best  a  man  had  to  give;  he  would  give 
them  of  his  best!  And  then,  if  he  should  prove  a 
faithful  servant  in  little,  perhaps  —  with  unaffected 
modesty  he  contemplated  the  prospect  —  to  him  might 
be  committed  service  of  wider  scope. 

Then  the  sensitive  retina  of  his  soul  began  to  take 
new  impressions.  The  conceded  fact  that  his  nom 
ination  came  solely  by  grace  of  Murchell's  and  Shee- 
han's  decree  caused  him  vague  misgivings.  Jeremy 
Applegate's  plaint  startled  him.  Hampden's  offer 
did  not  tempt,  it  revolted  him.  What  troubled  him 
most  was  that  these  things  were  done  in  the  light  of 
day  and  that  no  one  —  Jeremy  did  not  count,  the 
victim  would  naturally  protest  —  seemed  to  care. 
Did  it  mean  that  the  things  he  questioned  were  char 
acteristic?  Were  they  justified? 

"Am  I  a  prig?"  self -doubting. 

Other  things  he  learned  from  his  campaigning  — 
things  that  put  him  on  notice,  as  the  lawyers  say. 

After  careful  consideration  of  his  unimposing  bank 
account,  John  invested  a  part  of  it  in  a  horse,  despite 
the  teasing  of  Aunt  Roberta  who  accused  him  of 
"  joining  the  cavalry,"  to-wit,  Warren  Blake  and  the 
troop  of  undergraduates  that  clattered  over  the  roads 
at  Crusader's  heels.  He  was  not  a  thoroughbred,  blue- 
ribbon  winner,  like  Crusader,  but  just  a  plain  horse 
that,  with  buggy  attached,  could  trot  a  mile  in  some 
thing  less  than  five  minutes,  or,  if  you  weren't  par- 


72  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

ticular  as  to  gait,  would  bear  you  in  the  saddle  all  day 
with  equal  willingness.  He  was  a  big,  rawboned  beast 
with  a  Roman  nose  and  eyes  continually  showing 
white  —  which  quite  belied  his  placid  temper  —  and 
John  called  him  Lightning.  So  John  and  Lightning, 
two  industrious  campaigners,  between  whom  a  per 
fect  understanding  existed,  went  about  their  busi 
ness  of  getting  votes  —  and  learning. 

Lightning's  duties  generally  consisted  in  standing 
under  the  shade  of  some  tree,  while  John,  a  volunteer 
who  at  least  earned  his  dinner,  worked  with  the  farm 
ers  in  the  fields.  Glorious  days,  which  the  gathering 
shadows  could  not  altogether  rob  of  their  brightness ! 
spent  plying  his  pitchfork  with  a  vigor  that  allowed 
no  time  for  problem-solving;  breathing  the  dry,  sweet 
fragrance  of  new-mown  hay,  or  acquiring  dexterity 
in  sheaf-binding  after  the  remorseless  reaper  had  laid 
low  the  proudly-bending  grain;  or,  when  the 
"  thrasher  "  came,  on  the  strawstack  behind  the  barn, 
amid  a  cloud  of  flying  dust  and  chaff  and  the  crunch 
ing  roar,  too  busy  to  read  a  parable  in  the  splendid 
task  of  cutter  and  feeder,  as  with  quick,  precise,  sweep 
ing  grace  they  fed  the  maw  of  the  machine.  And 
over  the  dinner-table  or  when  the  day's  work  was 
done,  John  chatted  with  the  farmers.  The  labor  was 
good  for  his  muscles  and  digestion,  and  the  chat  was 
good  for  his  soul. 

Often  he  found  that  Jeremy  Applegate  or  one  of 
Jeremy's  fellow  scouts  had  blazed  the  trail  for  him. 
But  sometimes  he  found  skeptics  who  asked  pertinent 
questions. 

"  Why  should  I  vote  for  ye  ? "  asked  Dan  Cris- 
well,  a  citizen  of  Baldwin  Township,  one  evening. 


EXPLORATIONS  73 

They  were  sitting  on  Criswell's  front  porch  after  sup 
per,  John  sucking  at  his  pipe  and  his  host  enjoying  a 
cigar,  memento  of  Jeremy's  visit. 

John  began  to  patter  the  stock  Republican  argu 
ments,  which  carried  conviction  neither  to  the  skeptical 
Criswell  nor  —  of  a  sudden  —  to  himself.  He  broke 
off  abruptly  in  the  middle  of  a  sentence. 

"  As  you  say,"  he  laughed  uncomfortably.  "  Why 
should  you  vote  for  me  ?  " 

"Does  sound  kind  o'  foolish,  don't  it?  Reckon 
ye  won't  have  nothin'  to  do  with  the  tariff  or  the 
single  gold  standard  ner  prosperity  neither.  A  Dem 
ocrat  could  be  district  attorney  as  good  as  ye  can, 
pervidin'  he's  honest  an'  smart  enough.  Bein'  a  Re 
publican  won't  keep  ye  straight — 'less  ye're  so  nach- 
erly.  The  hull  Republican  party  won't  make  ye  git 
after  the  law-breakers,  if  ye're  cheek  by  jowl  with 
Jim  Sheehan  an'  he  don't  want  it.  What  I  want  to 
know  is,  are  ye  honest  —  or  will  ye  take  orders?" 

"  That  sounds  logical,"  John  assented. 

"  It's  common  sense.  Only  most  candidates  think 
we're  too  simple  to  think  on't.  An'  I  don't  know 
as  they're  far  wrong,"  he  added  thoughtfully. 
"  Most  of  us  seems  to  be  the  kind  o'  fools  they  think 
we  are." 

When  John  left,  however,  Criswell  shook  hands 
with  him  cordially.  "  I  guess  I'll  vote  for  ye  —  this 
time.  I  can't  swaller  the  hull  ticket,  though  — 
stomach  wouldn't  stand  it.  Ye  look  like  ye'd  be  yer 
own  man.  Leastways,  I'll  chance  it." 

And  John  replied,  troubled,  "  I  won't  regard  that  as 
a  promise.  I'm  not  sure  that  you  ought  to  vote  for 
me." 


74  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

Another  day  he  met  one  Sykes,  a  hill  farmer,  a 
little,  wizened  fellow  who  looked  as  though  he  had 
worn  himself  out  in  the  struggle  to  wring  a  living 
out  of  the  steep  slopes.  His  farm,  he  explained, 
would  have  been  a  fine  one,  if  only  he  could  "  ha' 
picked  it  up  an'  laid  it  out  in  some  level  place." 
John  found  him  in  the  barnyard,  tinkering  at  a  broken 
mower. 

"  Ye're  one  o'  them  politician  fellers,  ain't  ye?"  he 
demanded  straightway. 

"  I'm  John  Dunmeade  and  — " 

"  Know  all  about  ye,"  Farmer  Sykes  interrupted 
quickly.  "  Ye  can  save  yer  time  an'  yer  seegars.  I 
ain't  votin'." 

"  I  haven't  any  cigars,"  John  laughed  frankly. 
"  If  I  had,  you'd  probably  pay  for  them  in  the  long 
run.  But  if  you  smoke  a  pipe,  I'll  gladly  share  my 
tobacco  ?  "  He  exhibited  a  well-filled  pouch. 

But  Sykes,  it  appeared,  indulged  in  another  form 
of  the  tobacco  habit,  and  John  had  to  smoke  without 
company. 

"  I  ain't  votin',"  Sykes  repeated  churlishly. 

"  Well,"  John  laughed  cheerfully,  "  if  I  can't  get  a 
vote,  I'll  be  content  with  information.  Will  you  tell 
me  why  you  won't  vote?  " 

"  Ye  can't  git  aroun'  me  by  palaverin'."  The 
farmer  looked  up  suspiciously  from  his  tinkering. 
Then  he  straightened  up  suddenly,  looking  John 
squarely  in  the  eyes.  "  Well,  if  ye  will  have  it,  Jim 
Sheehan  nominated  ye.  If  ye'd  been  the  right  kind 
o'  man,  he  wouldn't  'a'  had  nothin'  to  do  with  ye." 

"  But  perhaps  Sheehan  might  make  a  mistake  — " 

"  Not  that  kind  o'  mistake.     He's  too  smart   fer 


EXPLORATIONS  75 

that."  Into  the  man's  dull  eyes  crept  a  sudden  hot 
gleam.  "  Anybody's  he  fer,  I'm  against.  I  rec'lect 
when  he  come  to  Plumville,  nothin'  but  a  drinkin' 
bum.  An'  now  he's  got  rich,  buildin'  bad  streets  an' 
roads  an'  taxin'  me  heavy  to  pay  fer  it  while  it  keeps 
me  scratchin'  to  git  the  intrust  on  my  mortgage. 
How  do  I  know  he's  crooked  ?  I  don't  know  —  I 
feel  it.  An'  I  know  that  no  one  gits  the  Republican 
nomination,  less'n  he  says  so.  Or  Murchell  —  an' 
they're  tarred  with  the  same  stick." 

John's  face  was  grave.  "  Then  you  ought  to  vote 
the  Democratic  ticket.  I'd  rather  you'd  do  that  than 
not  vote  at  all." 

The  momentary  flicker  of  passion  died  down. 
"  What's  the  use  ? "  was  the  reply,  dully  given. 
"  However  I  vote,  some  feller  like  Sheehan  gits  on 
top."  And  John  went  on  his  way,  the  twin  creases 
that  the  summer  had  stamped  between  his  eyes  deep 
ening. 

He  sought  counsel  from  his  father.  But  to  the 
judge,  Caesar's  wife  —  that  is  to  say,  the  Republican 
party  and  all  things  thereto  appertaining  —  was  above 
suspicion;  not  so  the  motives  of  him  who  raised  a 
question.  So  he  took  his  trouble  to  'Ri  Cranshawe, 
the  office  visitor  to  whom  John's  deference  had  at 
tracted  Sheehan's  attention,  a  big  man,  kindly, 
shrewd,  with  wisdom  in  the  raw.  He  listened  sym 
pathetically  as  John  poured  out  his  tale. 

"  It's  like  what  Sykes  says.  It  ain't  what  we 
know  —  it's  what  we  feel.  When  Jim  Sheehan  gits 
a  public  contract,  we  feel  there's  somethin'  crooked 
about  it.  When  a  man  gits  a  nomination,  we  feel 
that  he's  made  some  kind  o'  deal  with  Sheehan. 


76  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

When  we  put  up  a  man  on  our  own  hook,  an'  he's 
nominated  —  which  ain't  often  —  we  find  he's  gone 
over  to  Sheehan.  An'  that  ain't  feel,  it's  knozv.  Jim 
Sheehan's  represented ;  we  ain't.  It  ain't  right !  " 
He  brought  one  great,  gnarled  fist  into  the  palm  of 
the  other  with  a  report  like  a  pistol  shot.  "  This  ain't 
the  Jim  Sheehans'  country,  it's  ours  —  because  it's  our 
hands  an'  our  heads  that  makes  it.  Yet  we  can't 
elect  an  official  without  him  or  Murchell  says  so. 
We  can't  put  our  hands  on  nothin',  but  we  know  that  if 
<we  could  git  down  under  we'd  find  things  rotten." 

"  Then  why  don't  you  get  together  and  fight?  " 

"  We've  got  to  live,"  Cranshawe  answered  simply. 
"We  don't  lay  by  money  fast  enough  to  keep  us 
without  workin'.  We  ain't  got  the  time  ner  the 
trainin'  to  make  a  good  fight  against  him.  But  the 
.Sheehans,  they've  got  no  business  but  politics  an' 
they're  workin'  at  it  all  the  time.  An'  we've  got  no 
one  we  can  trust  to  lead  us.  We've  thought  we  had 
-sometimes,  but  as  I  say,  we  always  find  he's  Shee 
han's  man  in  the  end.  We've  got  no  leader."  His 
-eyes,  through  the  bushy  brows,  rested  with  an  almost 
wistful  light  on  the  troubled  countenance  before  him. 
"An'  it'd  take  a  large-size  man  fer  the  job." 

John  just  then  felt  very  small. 

He  went  to  Plumville,  an  ugly,  grimy,  bustling, 
growing  hive  of  workers;  with  its  drones,  too.  He 
had  the  key  to  interpret  what  he  saw.  He  was  per 
mitted  to  go  through  the  mills  and  to  meet  the  men; 
.he  came  out  with  hands  blackened  from  much  con 
tact  with  their  hands,  and  in  the  smut  he  felt  a  sort 
.of  pride.  What  he  had  read  on  the  farmers'  brown 
faces  he  saw  on  their  red,  scorched  ones;  the  dull- 


EXPLORATIONS  77 

eyed  suspicion  of  those  used  to  flattery  before  election 
and  neglect  afterward.  Under  the  careful  ciceron- 
age  of  Sheehan's  lieutenants  he  was  led  into  political 
club  and  saloon,  where  he  shook  hands  with  many 
more  men,  who  guzzled  vast  quantities  of  liquor  and 
sneered  openly  at  his  abstinence.  He  was  told  that 
here  he  would  meet  "  men  who  counted " ;  he  did 
meet  such  men, —  brutish  things,  moral  idiots,  chin- 
less  creatures;  sly,  crafty  men;  smug,  intelligent  hypo 
crites;  with  the  ideals  of  the  brothel,  lacking  sense 
of  loyalty  in  the  abstract,  but  bound  together  by  the 
cohesive  force  of  a  common  interest  —  plunder  — 
and  hence  dangerous,  terrible :  the  sort  that  one  would 
pass  by  as  life's  negligibles,  were  it  not  for  the  al 
most  incomprehensible  fact  that  they  through  their 
masters  —  or  their  masters  through  them  —  guided 
the  destinies  of  the  people.  For  this  army  never 
slept,  could  always  be  relied  upon. 

"  What  a  self-centered  beast  I  have  been ! "  he 
cried  within  himself.  "  All  this  rottenness  under  my 
nose  —  and  I  have  never  perceived  it !  " 

Another  night  he  spent  as  he  had  passed  the  night 
before  Sheehan  and  Murchell  came  to  offer  him  that 
"  big  place  in  the  life  of  men  " —  staring  at  his  vision : 
not  the  same  splendid,  thrilling  picture  of  dramatic 
struggle  and  triumph.  The  detached  impressions 
he  had  taken  during  the  summer  raced  before  him 
in  endless  repetition,  so  swiftly  as  to  form  one  con 
tinuous  living-picture,  luminous,  revealing.  A  great 
fear  came  upon  him;  fear  of  the  responsibility  of  that 
into  which  he  felt  himself  being  carried. 

And  there  was  another  thing  that  deepened  those 
twin  creases  between  his  eyes. 


78  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

One  morning  a  very  sleek,  high-stepping  cob,  draw 
ing  a  very  elegant  trap,  halted  before  his  office,  a 
circumstance  of  which,  you  may  be  sure,  New  Chelsea 
took  prompt  and  interested  notice.  The  occupant  of 
the  trap  waited,  calmly  ignoring  the  necks  craned  in 
her  direction.  She  did  not  have  to  wait  long.  John's 
client  was  somewhat  amazed  by  the  abruptness  with 
which  their  consultation  was  interrupted. 

"  Why,  hello !  "  he  exclaimed,  extending  his  hand 
to  the  visitor.  "  This  is  fine !  " 

She  observed  him  hesitatingly.  "  It  is  Mr.  Dun- 
meade,  isn't  it?  Yet  I  think  I  should  have  recog 
nized  you  anywhere.  You  haven't  changed  much, 
though  it  has  been  a  long  time  since  I  last  saw  you. 
—  Aren't  you  ashamed  of  having  neglected  me  so 
long?"  she  concluded  indignantly. 

"  Well,  you  see,  Katherine,"  he  grinned,  lamely  ex 
planatory,  "  I've  been  out  campaigning  — " 

"  You  might  at  least  have  come  to  report  your 
progress  to  an  interested  —  constituent.  Are  you 
aware  that  you  and  I  are  going  over  to  inspect  the 
new  house  this  afternoon?  It's  completed,  and 
you've  never  seen  it  yet.  I  don't  believe  you  are  in 
terested,"  she  reproached  him. 

"  O,  yes,  I  am.  And  I'd  like  to  very  much,"  he 
began.  "  But  I  ought  to  see  some  men  — " 

"  Do  you  think,"  she  interrupted  him  again,  "  that 
I've  set  all  the  tongues  in  New  Chelsea  clacking  for 
nothing?  Your  campaign  can  wait.  We  shall  start 
at  two." 

He  hesitated,  then  surrendered.  "  O,  hang  it  all ! 
I've  earned  a  holiday.  I'll  go." 

She   beamed   brightly   on   him.     "  That's   nice   of 


EXPLORATIONS  79 

you!  And  we  shall  ride.  I  want  to  race  Crusader 
against  that  new  steed  I've  heard  so  much  about." 

"  O,  no !  "  he  protested.  "  I'm  not  going  to  put  a 
good  friend  in  the  way  of  humiliation.  The  aristo 
cratic  Crusader  would  probably  snub  him,  and  Light 
ning  is  very  sensitive  about  such  things." 

"  It  is  time,"  she  insisted  firmly,  "  that  Crusader 
acquired  a  more  democratic  spirit.  Besides,  you've 
never  ridden  with  me  yet.  So  that's  settled.  And 
now  I  must  be  going  before  our  friends'  necks  be 
come  permanently  twisted.  At  two,  remember ! " 
And  the  sleek  cob  was  set  on  its  high-stepping  way. 

A  few  minutes  before  the  appointed  hour  New 
Chelsea  saw  Lightning  —  curried  as  never  before  in 
his  life  —  amble  in  his  own  peculiar  fashion  up  Main 
Street  to  the  opening  in  Hampden's  hedge,  whence  he 
soon  emerged  in  the  company  of  the  satiny  Crusader. 
Over  the  shady  roads  they  trotted  and  galloped,  Kath 
arine  finding  much  difficulty  in  restraining  her  mount, 
which  evinced  a  strong  desire  to  run  away,  to  Light 
ning's  sober  gait.  They  came  after  a  half  hour's  ride 
to  a  long,  straight  avenue,  once  the  rain-washed  lane 
to  a  farm-house,  newly  graded  and  graveled  and 
flanked  by  precise  rows  of  towering  poplars. 

"  It  was  for  the  trees  we  took  this  place,"  she  told 
him.  "  And  for  the  view.  Do  you  wonder?  " 

They  stopped  and  looked  down  into  the  valley  lying 
silent  before  them  like  some  vast,  deserted  amphithea 
ter  of  the  gods.  The  town,  seen  through  the  thin, 
bluish  haze  of  September,  seemed  sleepier  than  ever, 
half-hidden  by  its  trees;  the  spires  of  the  churches 
and  school-house  standing  up  like  exaggerated  excla 
mation  points.  "  Which  is  perfectly  absurd,"  she 


8o  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

flouted  his  fancy,  "  since  New  Chelsea  is  nothing  so 
emphatic." 

At  the  end  of  the  poplar-guarded  avenue  they  came 
upon  a  fat  little  man,  with  a  roll  of  blue-prints  tucked 
under  his  arm,  superintending  the  laying  out  of  the 
garden,  which,  as  Katherine  explained,  was  to  be 
formal ;  "  not  too  formal,  of  course,  just  enough  to 
give  that  quaint,  restful  effect."  But  as  the  garden 
just  then  consisted  only  of  badly  cut-up  turf  and  many 
wooden  stakes,  what  it  should  be  when  it  had  attained 
the  desired  degree  of  formality  was  left  to  John's  fee 
ble  imagination.  Then  they  turned  their  attention  to 
the  house,  which  John  discovered  was  not  nearly  so 
large  as  the  long  fagade,  viewed  from  a  distance,  had 
led  him  to  believe. 

"Italian,  isn't  it?"  he  ventured,  not  quite  sure  of 
his  ground. 

"  Southern  Italy,"  she  informed  him ;  "  and  frankly 
stolen." 

Inside,  the  decorators  —  not  from  New  Chelsea  — 
were  putting  the  finishing  touches  on  the  last  room,  and 
most  of  the  furnishings  were  in  place;  so  that  John 
had  an  opportunity  to  appraise  the  designers'  taste. 
Silas  Hicks,  who  had  the  contract  to  transport  the 
movables  from  the  New  Chelsea  house,  arrived  with 
a  load,  and  as  Katherine  authoritatively  directed  its 
disposal  John  guessed  whose  taste  had  ruled.  He 
found  that  the  Globe  had  done  the  house  grave  injus 
tice  ;  it  was  not  at  all  "  palatial  "  but  planned  with  an 
eye  to  comfort  and  harmony  — "  livableness,"  Kath 
erine  called  it  —  and  marked  by  extreme  simplicity, 
of  the  expensive  sort,  however.  Silas  was  frankly 


EXPLORATIONS  Si- 

disappointed,  as  he  found  occasion  to  inform  John  in* 
an  aside. 

"  It  ain't  so  much,  after  all,  is  it?  I  sorter  ex 
pected  somethin'  grand  an'  imposin'.  Yet  I  bet  these 
fixin's  must  'a'  cost  —  say,  a  couple  of  thousand  ?  " 
He  eyed  John  inquiringly.  "  I  don't  think  much  o' 
the  picters,  either.  Don't  seem  to  have  much  snap  to 
'em.  There's  one,  though  —  I  bet  Mis'  Hicks 
wouldn't  let  it  in  the  house  It's  about  a  lady  — •• 
leastways  a  woman.  It's  in  the  settin'-room,  'r 
librerry,  as  they  call  it."  He  offered  to  conduct  John 
to  it  and  when  the  offer  was  declined  for  the  present, 
continued  in  an  awe-struck  whisper.  "  But  they 
have  five  bath-rooms !  "  Later,  John  discovered  him 
surreptitiously  viewing  the  picture. 

Under  Katherine's  guidance  John  was  shown  the 
whole  house  from  garret  to  cellar.  At  least  half  of 
his  admiration  he  gave  to  his  guide.  He  had  never 
before  known  her  as  she  was  that  afternoon,  girlish, 
enthusiastic,  absorbed  in  her  woman's  task  of  home- 
making,  never  so  alluring.  For  the  first  time  he 
looked  upon  her  not  merely  as  a  girl  with  whom  one 
might  spend  a  few  jolly,  flirtatious  hours  but  as  a 
woman  with  whom  a  man  —  some  man  —  might  be 
glad  to  spend  a  lifetime.  His  imagination,  which 
had  not  been  equal  to  picturing  the  future  garden, 
began  to  busy  itself  with  her  making  a  home  for  — 
some  lucky  man. 

Afterward  they  rested  on  the  shady  eastern  ter 
race. 

"  Do  you  know,"  she  said,  "  you  haven't  exclaimed 
once.  Not  a  single  '  Fine ! '  Or  even  a  '  Bully  t ' 


82  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

You're  a  very  satisfactory  person  —  in  some  ways. 
Do  you  like  it?" 

"  Very  much,"  he  answered  with  such  evident  sin 
cerity  that  she  was  content.  "  But  why  this  air  of 
permanence  ?  " 

"  Because  this  is  to  be  home.  Of  course,  we  shall 
be  in  the  Steel  City  during  the  winter,  with  a  month 
in  New  York  for  the  opera.  But  this  is  home.  It 
seems  lonely  and  out  of  the  way  now,  I  suppose,  but 
that  won't  last  long.  The  Sangers  have  bought  the 
place  next  to  this.  The  Flicks,  and  maybe  the  Hawes, 
are  coming.  We'll  soon  have  our  own  little  colony." 

"But  Newport  and  Lenox?" 

"  Closed  chapters." 

"And  the  siege  of  New  York?" 

"  A  foolish  expedition  from  which  we  have  dis 
creetly  retreated."  Her  laugh  did  not  ring  quite  so 
free  as  usual. 

"  I  shouldn't  have  thought  you  were  the  retreating 
kind." 

"  I'm  not,  when  it's  worth  while  to  go  forward. 
But  that  —  O,  I  hated  it !  It  was  humiliating,  toady 
ing  to  people  who  despise  you  for  your  presumption ; 
swallowing  snubs  as  though  you  liked  them,  merely 
to  be  able  in  turn  to  snub  some  other  silly  aspirant." 
The  crimson  rushed  resentfully  to  her  cheeks,  at  the 
recollection  of  some  disagreeable  incident,  he  sus 
pected.  He  said  nothing. 

"  Thank  you  for  not  asking  questions.  It's  foolish 
for  me  to  be  so  sensitive  about  it,  but  — "  she  shrugged 
her  shoulders  —  "  our  experience  wasn't  pleasant.  I 
suppose  I  wasn't  constructed  to  endure  it  gracefully  — 
I'm  still  essentially  the  tomboy,  you  see.  But  I'm 


EXPLORATIONS  83 

fair  about  it,  I  think.  I've  no  doubt  there  are  lots 
of  splendid  men  and  women  in  society  there,  if  only 
they  were  accessible.  But  one  can  find  pleasant,  cul 
tured  people  elsewhere  —  even  among  the  maligned 
new-rich.  Does  that  smile  mean  you  think  I'm 
plagiarizing  from  the  classic  fox?  I'm  not.  I  like 
the  new-rich.  I  like  to  meet  men  who  are  doing 
things,  who  are  making  their  own  conquests,  not  liv 
ing  on  the  fruits  of  others'  conquests.  I  know  a 
man  —  he's  only  thirty-five  —  who  is  already  much 
richer  than  father  and  has  made  his  money  himself. 
People  are  apt  to  sneer  at  him  as  a  speculator  and 
call  him  unscrupulous.  But  I  think  he  is  splendid, 
because  he  has  had  the  brains  and  courage  to  make 
his  own  fight  —  and  win." 

He  sat  silent.  To  win,  always  to  win,  was  the 
sum  of  this  girl's  philosophy,  with  no  thought  of 
its  cruelty,  or  realization  that  for  every  victor  there 
must  be  many  losers.  And  wealth,  power,  the  things 
a  man  had,  were  the  badge  of  his  victory. 

And  she  had  said,  "  I  know  a  man.  ...  I 
think  he  is  splendid."  What  meant  the  sudden  pang 
answering  those  words? 

She  was  laughing  at  him.  "  What  do  you  think 
when  you  retire  into  yourself  so  rudely?  Anything 
profitable?  Or  interesting?" 

"  I'm  afraid  not.  Do  you  think  winning  is  all  of 
life?" 

"Isn't  it?" 

"  No,"  he  cried.  "  There  is  the  use  of  strength, 
if  one  is  strong,  to  support  the  weak — "  He  paused 
abruptly,  conscious  of  the  triteness  and  futility  of  his 
words,  with  the  shyness  of  the  man  who,  self-con- 


84  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

scious  without  conceit,  fears  to  uncover  his  ideals  be 
fore  unsympathetic  eyes. 

"  O,  John  Dunmeade,"  she  replied  impatiently,"  why 
can't  you  be  practical?  Does  any  one  do  that  and 
succeed  in  life?  You're  so  disappointing,  with  your 
school-boy  platitudes." 

He  made  no  answer;  the  quick  red  rushed  to  his 
face.  Why  did  her  impatience  make  him  feel  so 
deeply?  And  why  should  she  interest  herself  in  his 
ideals?  A  long,  troubled  silence  fell  between  them. 

"  John,"  she  said  suddenly,  "  was  it  necessary  for 
you  to  criticize  and  quarrel  with  my  father?" 

"  I  did  not  criticize  him,"  he  responded  quickly ; 
"  and  there  is  no  quarrel  that  I  am  aware  of.  We 
merely  differed  in  opinion  on  a  business  matter,  each 
believing  he  was  right." 

"  Will  you  tell  me  why  you  think  him  wrong?  " 

He  found  his  lips  sealed.  "  I  haven't  criticized 
him,"  he  said  gravely,  "  and  I  can't  begin  now, 
especially  to  his  daughter.  And,"  he  added,  smiling, 
"  my  part  in  the  matter  was  so  unimportant  to  him 
—  to  you  —  that  it  is  hardly  worth  mentioning." 

The  afternoon  was  spoiled.  Into  her  face  had 
come  a  look  almost  of  hardness,  like  the  swift  shadow 
of  a  cloud  over  the  fields  on  a  sunny  day,  the  ab 
sence  of  which  had  given  her  the  sweet,  frank  girlish- 
ness.  .  .  .  The  procession  of  questions  con 
tinued.  What  had  he  to  do  with  this  girl  to  whom 
luxury  was  a  matter  of  course?  Why  did  her  im 
patience  with  his  ideals  trouble  him?  What  was  he 
to  her  but  a  temporary  substitute  pending  the  arrival 
of  the  "  little  colony  of  our  own  "  ? 

"  Let  us  go  home,"  she  said. 


EXPLORATIONS  85 

They  went  to  the  horses.  From  the  beginning 
Crusader  behaved  badly.  To  enable  Katherine  to 
mount  John  had  to  lead  him  to  the  terrace  and  stand 
by  his  head  until  she  was  well  seated  and  had  gath 
ered  in  the  reins.  He  got  quickly  into  his  own  saddle 
and  they  went  down  the  poplar-lined  avenue,  John 
watching  Crusader's  antics  with  an  anxiety  Katherine 
did  not  share. 

"  Be  careful ! "  he  cautioned  her,  as  they  turned 
into  the  public  road.  "  That  horse  wants  to  bolt." 

"  I  told  you  he  lacks  common  sense  sometimes," 
she  laughed. 

As  though  to  illustrate  this  saying  Crusader  now 
began  a  series  of  short,  cramped  plunges,  rearing  and 
tossing  violently  to  loosen  the  steel  thing  that  cut  into 
his  mouth.  Instinctively  John  reached  for  the  bridle- 
rein. 

"  Don't !  "  she  said  sharply.  "  I  am  perfectly  capa 
ble — "  He  drew  back,  flushing  at  his  lack  of  self- 
control. 

She  brought  her  crop  stingingly  down  on  the  horse's 
flanks.  .  .  .  Crusader  broke  her  grip  on  the 
reins,  took  the  bit  between  his  teeth  and,  head  lowered, 
raced  madly  down  the  hill. 

Lightning,  now  an  ancient  horse,  must  often  recall 
for  the  benefit  of  the  arrogant  young  colts  that  wild 
ride  when  he  tried  to  overtake  the  fleet  thoroughbred. 
John  did  not  stop  to  consider  the  uselessness  of  risking 
his  own  life,  too.  His  arm  rose  and  fell  continuously, 
as  he  tried  to  beat  more  speed  into  his  horse  to  close 
the  rapidly  widening  gap  between  him  and  the  flying 
Crusader. 

A   turn  of  the   road   took   her   out  of   his   sight. 


86  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

Thereafter,  to  the  end  of  the  mad  chase,  she  was  al 
ways  just  beyond  the  next  turn.  He  was  not  a  good 
rider  and  the  wonder  was  that,  as  he  swung  at  top 
speed  around  the  curves  in  the  snaky  road,  he  was  not 
unseated.  Once  his  horse  stumbled  slightly,  recovered, 
and  galloped  on;  only  John's  unconscious  grip  on  the 
saddle  saved  him  from  a  bad  fall.  Lightning's  legs 
doubled  and  stretched  with  a  rapidity  never  before 
and  never  again  attained  in  his  placid  life,  but  to  John 
the  space  between  the  pounding,  staccato  hoof-beats 
seemed  endless.  The  blood  throbbed  heavily  in  his 
temples,  at  every  turn  he  closed  his  eyes,  fearing  to 
see  a  still,  broken  figure  before  him.  Yet  to  him 
just  then  life  meant  to  find  —  what  he  must  find. 

By  a  miracle  the  descent  was  accomplished  with 
out  mishap.  The  road  ran  on  a  level  for  a  few  hun 
dred  yards,  then  began  a  long  gradual  climb  of  the 
next  hill.  Lightning's  steps  lagged.  ...  At  a 
turn  in  the  road,  just  below  the  crest,  he  came  upon 
the  panting  Crusader,  standing  with  head  meekly  low 
ered.  Seated  on  the  roadside  was  Katherine  — 
coolly  putting  up  her  hair! 

Lightning  stopped  of  his  own  accord.  John's  blood 
rushed  to  his  heart,  leaving  his  face  very  white.  For 
a  moment,  in  the  reaction,  the  roadside  spun  around 
him  in  a  green  blur. 

"  What  an  anti-climax !  "  she  laughed. 

He  climbed  weakly  from  the  saddle  and  threw  him 
self  down  beside  her. 

"  It  was  glorious,  while  it  lasted,"  she  said. 

"  Glorious !  "  he  stammered. 

"  O,  I  was  frightened,  too."  She  held  out  a  hand ; 
it  was  shaking  like  an  autumn  leaf  from  which  the  sap 


EXPLORATIONS  87 

has  begun  to  recede.  "  But  you  look  worse  scared 
than  I  felt.  What  did  you  think  while  it  was  hap 
pening?  " 

He  stared  at  her  in  a  queer,  dazed  fashion.  "I  — 
I  am  trying  to  think  what  I  was  thinking." 

But  he  knew  —  he  knew ! 

She  looked  at  him  curiously  —  and  then  she,  too, 
knew.     The  knowledge  did  not  displease  her.     .     . 
She  rose  suddenly. 

"  Shall  we  go  back  ?  The  horses  will  get  stiff, 
standing." 

They  went  slowly  homeward,  she  chatting  with  a 
nervous,  excited  vivacity  —  of  what,  he  could  not  have 
told.  He  said  little. 

A  wiser  than  John  has  confessed  his  inability 
to  account  for  the  way  of  a  maid  with  a  man.  As  he 
was  leaving  her  at  her  home  she  said  impulsively, 
"  John,  I'm  sorry  I  was  so  nasty  about  your  misun 
derstanding  with  father.  Won't  you  tell  me  what  it 
is  about  his  business  you  dislike?  Perhaps,  if  I  had 
your  point  of  view  — " 

But  he  shook  his  head. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  CALL 

THE  Consolidated  Coal  Company  was  a  fact,  a 
splendid,  epoch-making  fact. 

The  last  stubborn  hold-out,  surrendering  to  Hamp- 
den's  skilful  negotiations,  to  necessity  and  pressure  of 
public  opinion,  had  been  led  triumphantly  into  camp  — 
and  on  Hampden's  terms.  Among  the  hills  west  of 
town  things  began  to  happen  under  his  forceful  direc 
tion.  A  spur  from  the  railroad  was  being  con 
structed.  A  village  of  rough  shanties  was  hastily 
thrown  together  to  house  the  colony  of  miners  that 
was  to  be  brought  later.  If  we  may  believe  the  Globe, 
a  notable  ceremony  occurred  when  Hampden  him 
self,  amid  an  interested  group  of  farmers  assembled 
for  the  occasion,  drove  the  first  pick  into  the  outcrop 
ping  on  'Ri  Cranshawe's  farm.  It  was  observable 
that  citizens  of  New  Chelsea,  speaking  of  "  our  town  " 
to  citizens  of  Plumville,  had  abandoned  the  attitude  of 
defiant  apology  for  the  emphatic  accents  of  pride.  In 
the  Square  men  began  to  step  more  briskly.  An  at 
mosphere  of  businesslike  haste  pervaded  the  town. 
The  price  of  real  estate  promptly  advanced;  lots  on 
Main  Street  were  held  at  one  thousand  dollars  —  it 
is  true,  no  purchaser  appeared.  Visions  of  expansion, 
of  prosperity,  filled  the  eye. 

Cranshawe  one  day  explained  to  John  why  he  and 
his  Deer  Township  neighbors  had  capitulated. 

88 


THE  CALL  89 

"  We  got  to  take  what  we  can  git.  It  takes  a  lot 
o'  money  to  develop  coal  lands.  Hampden  has  it  — 
an'  we  hain't.  Even  if  we  had  it,  we  don't  know 
nothin'  about  the  coal  business.  An'  Hampden  was 
too  smart  fer  us.  We  found  he'd  got  all  the  right  o' 
ways.  If  we  could  find  any  one  to  buy  our  coal,  he 
couldn't  'a'  shipped,  'ceptin'  over  Hampden's  right  o' 
way.  I  don't  like  to  be  held  up,  but  it's  my  only 
chance  to  leave  anything  fer  my  children.  You  can't 
divide  two  hundred  acres  amongst  seven  an'  give  much 
to  any  of  'em.  An'  I  guess,"  he  added  thoughtfully, 
"  if  a  man's  got  something  the  world  can  use,  he 
hain't  the  right  to  hold  it  back  just  because  he  can't 
make  his  own  terms." 

"  I  hope  it  will  all  turn  out  for  the  best,"  said  John, 
fearing  —  he  hardly  knew  why  —  that  it  might  not  so 
turn  out. 

"  Seems  like,"  said  Cranshawe,  "  the  feller  with 
money  has  the  whip-hand  over  the  feller  with  some 
thing  to  sell  or  develop.  A  man  that  has  money  can 
make  money  without  earnin'  it  nowadays.  It  don't 
seem  square  some  ways.  Seems  like  there's  some 
thing  wrong  with  our  system  somewheres.  Trouble 
is,  even  when  we  know  it's  wrong,  we  don't  want  to 
change  it,  hopin'  that  some  day  it'll  give  us  a  chanct 
to  make  money  the  same  way." 

"  O,  no !  "  John  protested.  "  I'd  hate  to  believe 
that.  I  can't  believe  it.  Men  aren't  all  of  the  dog- 
eat-dog  species." 

"  Well,"  said  'Ri,  a  little  ashamed,  "  I  don't  know 
as  I  believe  it  myself.  Guess  I'm  a  little  peevish  over 
bein'  outbargained  by  Steve  Hampden.  I  wish,"  he 
added  thoughtfully,  "  you  could  be  lawyer  fer  the 


90  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

company.  It  looks  like  us  farmers  won't  have  much 
say  in  the  business.  I'd  like  to  have  some  one  on  the 
inside  who  could  tell  us  what's  goin'  on." 

"  No  chance  of  that,  'Ri.  Hampden  doesn't  think 
much  of  me."  He  did  not  tell  Cranshawe  why  he  had 
lost  the  capitalist's  favor. 

The  net  result  of  his  quixotism,  he  thought  with 
some  bitterness,  was  to  win  Hampden's  hostility  and 
to  put  himself  out  of  the  way  of  protecting  his  farmer 
friends. 

And  late  in  October  occurred  the  Republican  rally. 

It  was  necessary  to  marshal  the  shaken  Republican 
hosts.  For  into  Benton  County  had  marched  a 
young  man  who  in  a  single  speech  broke  through  the 
defenses  so  painstakingly  reared  by  Jeremy  Applegate 
and  his  fellow  soldiers.  None  other  than  Jerry  Brent. 
A  big,  rawboned,  homely  fellow,  uncouth  in  manner 
and  sometimes  in  grammar,  but  with  a  crude,  passion 
ate  eloquence  that  always  carried  his  audience  with 
him.  He  had  been  a  coal-miner,  a  labor  organizer, 
and  had,  after  a  struggle  so  common  that  description 
stales,  been  admitted  to  the  practice  of  law.  In  all 
the  thirty-five  years  of  his  life  the  charge  of  material 
dishonesty  had  never  been  raised  against  him,  he  was 
still  poor.  And  he  was  counted  a  rising  man  in  the 
Democratic  party;  not  with  the  connivance  of  his  party 
bosses,  however.  They  considered  him  a  radical,  un 
safe  and  —  cardinal  crime  in  an  honest  and  unman 
ageable  young  man !  —  ambitious.  Respectable  peo 
ple  sneered  at  his  "  antics."  It  was  said  that  his  eyes 
were  fixed  on  the  next  Democratic  nomination  for  gov 
ernor.  Even  with  this  suspicion  rankling  in  their 
minds  the  bosses  dared  not  —  so  popular  was  he  among 


THE  CALL  91 

labor  men  —  refuse  him  opportunity;  to  speak  during 
the  campaign. 

John,  an  inconspicuous  listener,  heard  Brent's  Ben- 
ton  County  speech.  It  troubled  him ;  it  seemed  to  him 
unanswerable.  Brent,  it  was  true,  dealt  in  terms  of 
suspicion,  not  of  facts,  but  it  was  a  suspicion  that 
found  a  swift  echo  in  the  hearts  of  his  audience.  He 
frankly  said  as  much. 

"  Of  course,  we  don't  know  all  the  inside  facts  of 
machine  government.  If  we  did,  the  knowledge  would 
make  us  ashamed  of  being  American  citizens.  But 
machines  don't  breed  friends  of  the  people  to  tell 
us.  But  some  things  are  so  plain  we  don't  need 
proof  to  know  'em.  We  know  that  a  trust  company 
was  smashed  and  its  cashier  committed  suicide  be 
cause  the  politicians  through  the  state  deposits 
were  able  to  manipulate  it.  We  know  that  no  bank 
can  secure  state  deposits  without  political  pull.  We 
know  that  the  state  gets  little  or  no  interest  on  its 
moneys  in  those  banks,  and  we  can  guess  that  some  one 
else  gets  the  interest  the  state  ought  to  receive.  And 
that's  a  little  thing.  We  can  forgive  them  the  money 
they  steal.  But  it  ain't  a  little  thing  when  they  steal 
our  right  of  self-government.  We  don't  govern  this 
state.  One  man  —  Murchell  —  picks  out  our  officers 
and  tells  'em  what  to  do  while  in  office.  You  people 
don't  govern  Benton  County.  One  man  —  Jim  Shee- 
han,  Murchell's  tool  —  chooses  your  commissioners, 
your  treasurers,  your  sheriffs,  your  district  attorneys." 
John  winced.  "And  it's  wrong  —  my  God!  it's 
wrong!  "  the  orator  cried  passionately.  "  It  would  be 
wrong,  even  if  these  men  were  honest.  And  I  blame 
you  for  it.  You  haven't  the  right  to  shove  your  re- 


92  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

sponsibility  on  other  men's  shoulders,  and  they  haven't 
the  right  to  take  the  power.  ..." 

The  man's  hot,  rough  eloquence  found  a  lodgment 
where  least  expected,  in  John's  heart,  already  sensi 
tized  by  his  own  discoveries  and  questionings.  Jerry 
Brent  was  right.  ...  As  John  looked  at  the  ora 
tor,  sweating  from  his  violent  gesticulations  and  shout 
ing,  the  strong,  ugly  face  often  convulsed  by  his  pas 
sion,  shame  burned  within  him.  He  wished  he  had 
not  come  to  the  meeting;  his  self-esteem  did  not  relish 
being  told  what  he  already  knew  —  that  he  was  being 
used  as  a  cat's-paw,  and  for  a  purpose  essentially  dis 
honest. 

The  oldest  inhabitant  could  not  remember  when  the 
Republican  party  had  been  so  vigorously  attacked.  To 
stem  the  tide  of  revolt  —  John  felt  it  strongly  in  his 
canvass  —  an  old-time  rally  was  to  be  held  in  the 
Square.  Sheehan  instructed  John  as  to  the  part  which 
the  latter  was  to  play. 

"You're  to  speak.  Hit  'er  up  hard.  Tell  'em  all 
about  the  G.  O.  P.  bein'  the  friend  of  the  farmer.  Feed 
'em  the  tariff.  Wave  the  flag  —  you  know  how.  It's 
your  chance.  Parrott  and  Sherrod'll  be  there.  Par- 
rott's  no  slouch  of  a  speaker  —  but  you  can  beat  him. 
Farmers  like  a  good  speech." 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  care  to  make  the  speech." 

"  Don't  you  want  to  be  elected  ? "  Sheehan  de 
manded. 

"  I  guess  so.  Yes,"  with  sudden  vigor  and  a  short 
laugh  that  Sheehan  did  not  understand.  "  I  do." 

"  Well,  then  — !  Play  up  your  independence.  Tell 
'em  there's  no  strings  tied  to  you." 

"  I  can  tell  them  that  —  with  truth." 


THE  CALL  93 

Sheehan  looked  long  and  hard  at  him.  Then  he 
chuckled.  "Of  course.  And  don't  forget  the  state 
ticket  when  you're  talkin'." 

When  he  was  alone,  John  fairly  writhed  in  his  self- 
contempt  and  hatred  of  the  boss.  "The  big  beast! 
He  thinks  I'm  to  be  one  of  his  puppets,  that  when  I'm 
elected  I'll  take  his  orders  as  others  do.  I'll  show 
him!  I'll — "  He  stopped  suddenly  and  fell  back 
in  his  chair  helpless.  What  would  he  do?  What 
could  he  do  —  he,  beneficiary  of  the  man's  power? 

He  prepared  a  fine  speech.  And  then  came  the 
night  of  the  rally  —  the  pomp  and  panoply  of  war. 

We  stand  with  John  under  the  big  elm  at  the  north 
west  corner  of  the  Square,  where  Main  and  North 
Streets  meet.  Before  us  is  the  rough  board  speakers' 
stand,  hastily  knocked  together  and  liberally  bedecked 
with  flags  and  lithographs  of  Lincoln  and  of  Beck,  the 
Republican  candidate  for  treasurer.  In  front  are 
many  rows  of  pine  benches.  Over  all  falls  the  white 
splendor  of  the  full  October  moon,  to  be  dimmed  when 
the  four  kerosene  torches  guarding  the  speakers'  stand 
are  set  flaring  and  smoking;  and  by  many  other 
lights.  On  the  morrow  sundry  mothers,  surveying 
oil-stained  caps  and  coats,  will  decry  all  electioneering, 
but  to-night  no  boy  need  go  unhappy ;  there  are  torches 
for  all.  Some  canny-souled  youths  are  more  than 
happy;  they  have  discovered  that  for  the  joy  of  being 
light-bearers  and  helping  to  make  this  a  memorable, 
gala  night  in  Benton  County  they  can  obtain  the  sum  of 
five  cents,  thus  combining  pleasure  with  profit  and  tak 
ing  their  first  lesson  in  politics. 

Debouching  into  Main  Street  from  other  roads 
comes  a  steady  stream  of  steeds,  gaunt  and  strong  and 


94  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

slow-moving  as  the  human  freight  they  draw,  shying 
awkwardly  at  the  lights  flashed  in  their  eyes  by  reck 
less,  mischievous  boys.  The  steeds  are  safely  hitched 
in  various  churchyards  and  the  drivers  gather  in  the 
Square,  in  shifting,  serious  groups.  Gradually  the 
Square  fills.  A  hoarse  hum  of  voices  rises.  The  air 
becomes  charged  with  an  unnatural  excitement  —  the 
sense  of  an  occasion!  —  bred  of  the  strange  lights  and 
bustle  and  the  presence  of  many  men.  John,  between 
handshakes,  has  time  to  feel  it.  His  lagging  soul, 
jaded  by  much  questioning,  leaps  forth  suddenly  re 
sponsive.  These  men  are  —  the  people.  The  power 
of  it  —  the  power  and  the  glory !  He  thrills  under  a 
sense  of  oneness  with  them.  Murchell  and  his  ma 
chine,  Sheehan  and  his  control,  seem  far  away,  unreal, 
impossible. 

Jeremy  Applegate  does  not  thrill.  Jeremy  is  wot- 
ried.  Many  on  his  list  have  heard  Brent's  speech  ana 
are  wavering,  may  even  break  the  promise  made  to 
their  "  comrade."  He  is  wearing  a  faded  blue  uni 
form  with  a  little  bronze  button  in  the  lapel  of  the 
coat  and,  as  he  limps  hurriedly  from  group  to  group, 
his  hand  often  seeks  the  pocket  where  repose  the  elo 
quent  cigars.  He  leaves  behind  him  a  wake  of  fra 
grant  tobacco  and  kindly  glances. 

The  hand  at  last  finds  a  depleted  pocket.  Jeremy 
limps  hastily  over  to  John,  who  stands  for  the  moment 
lost  in  his  dreaming. 

"  Got  any  cigars,  John?     I'm  out." 

John  descends  from  dreams  to  tobacco,  which  is 
real  and,  it  seems,  indispensable.  He  makes  a  fruit 
less  search.  "  Nary  a  one.  Can't  you  campaign  with 
out  cigars,  Jeremy  ?  " 


THE  CALL  95 

"  They  expect  'em.  I'll  have  to  go  to  the  drug 
store." 

But  John  stops  him.  "  Jeremy,  how  much  have  you 
spent  for  cigars  this  campaign  ?  " 

"  More'n  thirty  dollars,  I  expect,"  sighs  Jeremy. 

"  Come  around  to-morrow  and  I'll  make  it  up  to 
you." 

Jeremy's  eyes  suddenly  fill  in  his  gratitude,  but  he 
shakes  his  head.  "  You  can't  afford  it." 

"  Can  you?  "  Jeremy  thinks  of  the  dress  that  Mrs. 
Jeremy  needs  so  badly  and  is  silent.  But  he  does  not 
forget  his  cause. 

"  Give  me  part  of  it  now  —  I  can  get  more  cigars." 

John's  protest  dies  in  a  half  laugh.  He  fishes  forth 
a  bill  and  gives  it  to  Jeremy,  who,  overcome  by  this 
windfall,  can  only  mumble,  "  Thank  you." 

John  nods  toward  the  gathering  crowd.  "  Great, 
isn't  it  ?  Makes  a  man  feel  — " 

But  Jeremy,  the  war-worn,  is  not  impressed. 
"  Huh !  Means  nothin'.  Speeches  don't  do  any( 
good." 

"  Brent's  did." 

:<  Yes,"  Jeremy  answers  "bitterly.  "  He  had  some- 
thin'  to  say.  Fer  God's  sake,  Johnny,  give  'em  some- 
thin'  to  think  about !  Give  'em  a  reason !  " 

John  remembers  the  carefully-conned  speech  in  his 
pocket  and  suddenly  flushes.  He  watches  Jeremy  limp 
up  the  street  toward  the  drug-store.  Jeremy,  too,  is 
of  —  the  people. 

"  Cuttin'  a  melon,  bo?  I'm  willin',"  a  coarse  voice 
behind  him  laughs  familiarly. 

John  turns  to  survey  the  speaker,  a  big,  hulking 
man,  pot-bellied,  bow-legged;  a  short,  thick  neck  sup- 


96  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

porting  a  round,  small  head ;  little,  furtive  eyes  out  of 
which  a  brave  soul  never  looked.  John  recoils  from 
his  familiarity. 

"  Barkis  is  willin',"  the  coarse  voice  laughs  again. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  John  asks  curtly. 

"  I'm  Butch  Maley,  sonny,  an'  me  pocket  has  that 
empty  feelin',"  the  man  grins  affably.  "  Saw  you 
handin'  it  out  to  the  peg-leg." 

"  I  was  —  paying  a  debt." 

"  Sure !     Pay  me  a  debt,  too." 

"  I  owe  you  nothing." 

"  You  will  before  election's  over."  The  rough 
laugh  grates  on  John's  nerves.  "  An'  the  boys  is 
havin'  a  blow-out  to-morrer  night  —  somep'n  on  you'll 
taste  good." 

"  You're  at  the  wrong  place,  my  friend."  John's 
disgust  is  evident.  "  I've  no  money  for  you."  He 
turns  away. 

But  the  man  puts  forth  a  rough  hand  to  detain  him. 
"  Guess  you  didn't  hear  who  I  am.  I'm  Butch 
Maley."  " 

"  You  look  it." 

"  Don't  git  fresh,  kid !  "  The  heavy,  sensual  face  is 
lowering.  "  I'm  Butch  Maley  —  fourt'  precinc', 
fourt'  ward.  See?  Guess  you  don't  know  what  that 
means  ?  " 

"  Nothing  pleasant,  I'm  sure.  And  take  your  hand 
from  my  shoulder,"  John  replies  sharply,  as  he  turns 
away  from  the  profanely-growling  man.  The  gross 
creature  has  irritated  him  unreasonably.  Butch 
Maley,  too,  is  of  —  the  people. 

But,  hark!  From  down  by  the  station  comes  the 
strident  shriek  of  a  locomotive.  It  is  the  train  bearing 


THE  CALL  97 

the  candidates  and  the  Plumville  delegation.  There  is 
a  lull  of  a  few  moments;  we  wait  impatiently,  know 
ing  that  the  procession  is  forming.  Then  on  the  air 
rise  the  distant  strains  of  Marching  Through  Geor 
gia  played  by  the  Plumville  brass  band.  We  thrill 
—  who  could  help  it?  The  strains  come  nearer, 
clearer.  The  procession  wheels  with  more  or  less  pre 
cision  into  Main  Street.  First,  the  red- jacketed  band 
playing  lustily  —  it  is  John  Brown's  Body  now  — 
and  surrounded  by  jubilant  young  Lucifers,  the  stal 
wart  drum-major  performing  miracles  with  his  baton. 
Then  the  speaking  party  —  John  ought  to  be  of  it  — 
seated  in  three  open  barouches  festooned  with  bun 
ting.  And  then  the  Plumville  Fourth  Ward  Marching 
Club,  twirling  red,  white  and  blue  umbrellas  and  smok 
ing  unanimously:  slack-jawed,  bleary-eyed  fellows 
most  of  them,  useful  only  for  voting  and  for  pur 
poses  of  display,  camp  followers;  their  souls  would 
rattle  lonesomely  in  a  pea-shell.  John  surveys  them 
with  disgust.  And  yet  these  also  are  of  —  the  peo 
ple.  Characteristically,  as  they  approach  the  Square, 
they  break  ranks  and  rush  to  get  front  seats.  The 
fumes  of  their  cigars  rise  to  mingle  with  the  rancid^ 
smell  of  burning  kerosene. 

The  candidates,  properly  acclaimed,  and  their  party 
of  distinguished  citizens  are  on  the  platform.  The 
benches  are  filled;  around  them  stands  a  fringe  of 
men,  mostly  farmers,  who  in  the  rush  for  seats  have 
been  too  slow.  John,  sandwiched  in  between  Sheehan 
and  Congressman  Jenkins,  looks  out  over  the  audi 
ence,  a  strange  question  in  his  eyes;  he  is  seeking  a 
"  reason,"  as  though  it  were  to  be  found  written  on 
the  faces  of  the  men  before  him. 


98  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

The  speaking  begins.  After  a  short  preliminary 
speech  the  chairman  introduces  Beck,  candidate  for 
treasurer,  as  inconsiderable  now  as  he  will  be  when 
in  office.  Then  comes  Parrott,  a  famous  corpora 
tion  lawyer  whose  features  somehow  suggest  that  he 
is  well  named;  he  is  adept  in  the  use  of  those  phrases 
which  elicit  enthusiasm  but  do  not  convince.  After 
him  Mark  Sherrod,  state  senator,  a  tall,  suave  man 
with  a  magnetic  something  about  him;  one  of  his  eyes 
has  a  slight  cast  and  gives  his  face  a  sinister  expres 
sion  which  not  all  his  undoubted  attraction  can  re 
move.  He  is  a  coming  man ;  already  a  power  in  the 
big  eastern  city,  it  is  whispered  that  he  is  planning  to 
succeed  Beck  in  the  treasurership.  And  after  him  the 
Honorable  G.  Washington  Jenkins,  congressman  from 
the  district,  Lincolnian  in  figure,  shrill  and  nasal  of 
voice,  but  with  the  old  campaigner's  fund  of  stories 
and  a  rough-and-ready  eloquence  that  catches  the 
crowd. 

The  old  trees  in  the  Square  might  smile,  had  the  Al 
mighty  equipped  them  with  a  facial  apparatus,  as  the 
familiar  shafts  of  oratory  hurtle  through  their  gnarled 
branches.  Once  more  we  are  in  the  throes  of  civil 
war,  the  earth  trembles  'neath  the  tread  of  mighty 
armies.  Cannons  roar, —  that  smoke  rising  from  the 
kerosene  torches  and  cigars  may  well  be  the  thick, 
white  pall  of  the  battleground.  The  cold  shivers 
chase  up  and  down  our  spine  as  we  gaze  upon  fields 
wet  with  blood.  Nobly  the  speakers  repulse  the  gray- 
clad  hosts  on  Cemetery  Hill,  clamber  up  the  embattled 
slopes  of  Vicksburg,  force  their  iron  way  through  the 
thick  Wilderness.  The  hozannas  of  four  million  odd 
freedmen  fill  the  air.  The  grandeur  of  Lincoln  is  a 


THE  CALL  99 

fruitful  source  of  eloquence;  his  spirit  dwells  with  us, 
it  seems.  The  fertile  fields  of  the  West  are  opened 
and  made  to  bring  forth  their  bountiful  yield  before 
our  eyes;  by  some  mysterious  process  of  reasoning 
this  triumph  of  civilization  is  due  to  the  genius  of  the 
Republican  party. 

The  tariff  is  matter  for  much  pride ;  we  are  pointed 
to  a  thousand  smokeless  chimneys  —  reference  is  to  the 
late  panic  —  standing  mute  but  eternal  witnesses  to 
the  fallacy  of  Democratic  doctrine.  We  are  solemnly 
warned  against  the  evil  of  voting  for  the  fifty  cent 
dollar.  The  hungry  are  invited  to  receive  a  "  full  din 
ner  pail  " —  a  brand  new  slogan.  If  any  virtue  is  not 
claimed  for  our  party,  it  is  an  oversight  that  will  be 
corrected  by  the  next  speaker.  We  almost  feel  the 
presence  of  Omnipotence  as  the  Honorable  Wash 
Jenkins  fervently  adjures  us  to  cast  our  votes  for 
"  the  party  of  progress,  the  party  of  conservatism,  of 
wisdom  and  courage  and  power,  the  party  of  the  farm 
er,  the  manufacturer,  the  laborer  —  of  the  people, — 
the  party  of  Prosperity!  —  the  party  of  Lincoln,  who 
said  that  '  government  of  the  people,  by  the  people  and 
for  the  people  shall  not  perish  from  the  earth.' ' 

The  front  seats  roar  their  approval.  From  the  fringe 
of  farmers,  Jim  Sheehan  observes,  comes  only  grim 
silence.  There  is  an  uneasy  sense  that  Jerry  Brent's 
suspicions  have  not  been  answered. 

Through  it  all  John  sat,  hardly  moving.  But  within 
him  was  tumult.  He  was  contrasting  the  grandilo 
quent,  virtuous  phrases  with  the  Machine  as  he  had 
seen  it.  And  he  knew  that  in  the  Jeremys,  the  Maleys, 
the  devious  devices  of  which  he  could  not  help  hear 
ing  hints  in  his  campaigning,  he  had  caught  but  a 


ioo  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

glimpse  of  the  thing  —  the  Machine.  He  did  not  be 
lieve  that  good  employs  evil  to  its  ends ;  by  its  agencies 
a  cause  was  to  be  judged.  He  sighted  along  the  line 
of  those  who  profited  by  it  —  Sheehan,  Beck,  Parrott, 
Sherrod,  Murchell  —  the  line  was  lost  in  the  mist  of 
his  incomplete  knowledge.  This  knowledge,  his  rank 
ling  suspicions,  Brent's  questionings,  rose  up  to  con 
front  him,  demanding  like  Jeremy  a  "  reason."  He 
could  not  find  it.  And  the  people,  the  sturdy,  patient, 
hard-headed  men  out  there  —  were  they  such  dolts  as 
to  be  fooled  by  the  hollow  mockery  being  enacted  be 
fore  them?  He  could  not  believe  it.  And  yet  he  — 
he  who  doubted  —  was  expected  to  play  a  part  in  the 
mockery,  to  give  the  lie  to  his  inner  consciousness,  to 
befog  the  issue  in  the  minds  of  the  listeners,  to  take 
his  place  in  the  ranks  of  the  Machine.  The  speech  in 
his  pocket  burned  to  the  skin. 

The  tumult  was  still  raging  when  the  Honorable 
Wash  Jenkins  concluded  his  florid  peroration  and  the 
applause  died  down.  Vaguely,  as  from  a  distance, 
John  heard  the  chairman  introduce  "  New  Chelsea's 
candidate  "  and  the  sudden  cheers  that  rose.  He  did 
not  realize,  although  Parrott  and  Sherrod  did,  that  in 
the  cheers  was  a  quality  not  felt  in  the  other  greetings 
that  night.  He  rose  mechanically.  He  hardly  knew 
when  Sheehan,  grasping  his  arm,  shouted  into  his  ear, 
"  Don't  forget  the  state  ticket.  Play  it  up  hard !  " 
He  walked  to  the  front  of  the  platform ;  the  cheers  re 
doubled,  then  subsided.  The  fringe  of  farmers 
pressed  forward  a  little. 

He  stood  silent  before  them.  The  well-conned 
speech,  with  its  smooth  periods,  the  dramatic  climaxes 
to  which  his  clear,  flexible  voice  lent  itself  so  beauti- 


THE  CALL  101 

fully,  refused  to  be  uttered.  He  could  not  speak  the 
lie  he  had  prepared;  a  "  reason  "  he  had  not.  His  si 
lence  compelled  silence,  the  tense  stillness  of  wonder 
ment  that  spread  even  to  the  boys  on  the  outskirts  of 
the  crowd. 

At  last  words  came,  in  a  dry,  suppressed  voice.  He 
did  not  mean  to  be  facetious,  and  no  one  laughed  at 
his  grave,  protesting  irony. 

"  We  have  heard  to-night  of  the  past  glories  of  our 
party  —  and  of  glories  that  are  of  the  nation.  I  shall 
not  repeat,  lest  repetition  dull  their  point.  I  have 
been  asked  not  to  forget  the  state  ticket,  in  fact,  to 
play  it  up  hard.  I  need  hardly  speak  for  the  gentle 
men  who  have  so  eloquently  spoken  for  themselves. 
I  presume  they  do  not  wish  to  be  saddled  with  responsi 
bility  for  any  of  my  shortcomings,  nor  do  I  wish  to  be 
judged  by  theirs.  I  am  a  candidate  for  office.  If 
you  think  me  the  sort  of  man  to  administer  that  office 
honestly  and  well,  without  fear  or  favor,  and  as  my 
own  man,,  I  shall  be  happy.  If  you  don't  think  that, 
you  can't  believe  that  any  party's  history  will  make  me 
an  honest  official.  And  —  that's  all  I  can  say." 

He  turned  and  walked  toward  the  rear  of  the  plat 
form.  The  silence  continued.  Slack  jaws  fell  slacker. 
The  fringe  of  farmers  stood  motionless,  bewildered, 
slow  to  grasp  the  significance  of  the  short  speech. 
Through  the  silence  the  voice  of  Jim  Sheehan,  first  to 
recover  presence  of  mind,  carried  over  the  crowd  to 
Main  Street. 

"  For  God's  sake,  start  a  tune  or  something !  "  This 
to  the  band. 

Some  one  laughed.  The  band  began  to  play  When 
Johnny  Comes  Marching  Home,  of  all  tunes !  Peo- 


102  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

pie  began  to  rise  from  their  seats ;  it  was  not  necessary 
for  the  chairman  to  announce  the  end  of  the  meeting. 

On  the  stage  John  faced  a  wrathful  tableau, —  Par- 
rott,  Sherrod  and  Sheehan.  "  What  the  hell  — "  be 
gan  Sheehan,  but  the  suave  Sherrod,  minus  his  suavity, 
interrupted,  "  What  do  you  mean?  If  you  can't  sup 
port  the  ticket,  you  had  no  right  to  speak  at  all.  You 
abuse  courtesy,  young  man." 

"  Not  yours,  at  any  rate,"  John  answered,  and 
walked  from  the  stage. 

He  made  his  way  quickly  behind  it  and  out  around 
the  crowd.  He  was  dazed  by  his  own  act.  He  had 
one  desire,  to  get  away  by  himself  where  he  could 
think  out  the  significance  of  the  thing  that,  driven  by 
something  uncontrollable  within  him,  he  had  done.  A 
heavy  sense  of  treachery  was  upon  him,  yet  he  could 
not  have  done  otherwise.  He  had  not  eyes  for  the 
curious  glances,  many  of  them  more  friendly  than  he 
could  then  have  believed,  cast  toward  him. 

On  the  edge  of  the  crowd  he  met  Jeremy,  a  fright 
ened  yet  exultant  Jeremy. 

"  Jeremy !  "  He  read  accusation  on  the  troubled 
old  face.  "  I'm  sorry.  I  couldn't  help  it  —  I  couldn't 
find  the  reason." 

"  Sorry !  "  Jeremy  leaned  closer,  until  his  face  was 
not  two  hands'  breadth  from  John's.  "  The  county'll 
prob'ly  go  Democratic  —  but  you're  a  man.  You 
didn't  tell  a  lie  for  a  job,  anyways." 

Jeremy  turned  away,  to  see  Farmer  Sykes'  wizened, 
sardonic  face  leering  at  him. 

"  That's  it,  Jeremy,"  the  dry  voice  cackled.  "  Give 
it  to  'im,  give  it  to  'im  hard.  What  right's  he  got  to 
have  a  soul?  " 


THE  CALL  103 

Jeremy  shrank  away  into  the  crowd,  frightened,  glad 
that  he  had  not  been  overheard.  No  one  must  know 
that  he,  too,  for  a  moment  had  reclaimed  his  own  soul, 
lest  the  precious  job  be  taken  from  him. 

John,  walking  swiftly  with  eyes  cast  down,  would 
have  passed  without  noticing  the  fashionable  trap  in 
front  of  his  home,  had  not  a  voice  from  it  called  to 
him. 

"John,  John!" 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  WILDERNESS  ROAD 

HE   stopped   and   stared   at  her   in   astonishment. 
"  Katherine !     What  are  you  doing  here  ?  " 

"  Listening  to  the  speeches,  of  course.  O,  you 
needn't  look  so  surprised  —  I've  been  well  chaperoned, 
thank  you,  between  Williams  here  and  Miss  Roberta. 
And  it  has  been  such  fun !  We  stood  under  the  trees 
on  the  edge  of  the  crowd,  where  we  could  hear  the 
speakers  and  the  comments  of  the  farmers.  Miss 
Roberta?  O,  she  has  fled  into  the  house,  afraid  to 
be  caught  showing  an  interest  in  her  wonderful 
nephew.  Isn't  that  just  like  her?  Don't  tell  her  I've 
tattled." 

"  But  I  don't  understand  why  you  should  want  to 
come." 

"  You're  so  stupid  sometimes,"  she  sighed  impa 
tiently.  "  To  hear  you  speak,  of  course.  I've  always 
wanted  to.  I  wanted  dad  to  come  along,  but  he  said 
no,  his  interest  in  politics  was  practical,  not  senti 
mental,  and  he  preferred  to  take  his  vaudeville  straight. 
He  was  in  quite  a  bad  humor  because  I  wanted  to 
come.  But  —  I  am  here." 

"  I  wish  you  hadn't  come,"  he  said,  still  in  a  daze. 

"  That's  kind,  I'm  sure."  She  tossed  her  head  in 
burlesque  hauteur.  "  Instead,  you  might  offer  to  drive 
home  with  me.  Williams  can  stay  here  and  drive 
back  when  you  return." 

104 


THE  WILDERNESS  ROAD  105 

He  shook  his  head.  "  I'd  better  not,"  he  muttered. 
He  still  wanted  to  get  away  by  himself  to  think. 

"Please!"  She  leaned  forward  and  urged  him 
softly.  "  It's  our  last  chance  for  a  good  chat.  We 
go  away  to-morrow  morning." 

He  tried  honestly  to  resist,  feeling  instinctively  that 
for  him  she  spelled  danger  and  that  every  hour  with 
her  added  to  the  danger.  But  he  made  the  mistake 
of  looking  at  her.  Always  she  was  revealing  some 
new  charm  for  him  and,  despite  his  inner  warning,  now 
bred  in  him  a  sort  of  recklessness.  When  she  re 
sorted  to  appeal,  the  charm  became  doubly  alluring. 
And  in  the  fitful  half-light  from  the  torches  in  the 
Square,  her  eyes  bright  with  excitement  and  an  eager 
interest  that  he  felt  was  new,  she  was  to  him  very 
beautiful,  very  desirable.  He  called  himself  a  weak 
ling,  a  fool  that  played  with  fire. 

And,  so  styling  himself,  he  assented. 

"  Then,"  she  said,  eminently  practical,  "  you'd  bet 
ter  go  get  your  overcoat.  Miss  Roberta  has  been 
fretting  all  evening  because  you  weren't  wearing  one. 
And  I  don't  care  to  answer  to  her,  thank  you,  if  you 
catch  your  death  of  cold." 

He  obeyed,  subtly  flattered  by  her  care.  Soon  they 
had  left  the  town  behind  them  and  were  bowling  along 
the  moonlit  road.  She  drew  the  impatient  cob  down 
to  a  leisurely  trot,  so  slow  that  homeward-bound 
farmers  occasionally  passed  them  with  ease. 

John,  letting  the  rally  and  the  problem  it  presented 
drift  into  the  background,  gave  himself  up  to  a  reck 
less  enjoyment  of  the  hour.  The  white  splendor  of 
the  moon  undimmed  by  smoky  torches,  the  silent 
majesty  of  the  hills  with  their  shadows  and  silvery 


io6  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

sheen,  alone  were  real.  The  crowd  of  faces  peering 
intently  at  him  through  the  half  gloom,  the  struggle 
within  him  as  he  stood  before  them,  his  ironic  rejection 
of  the  part  assigned  him,  seemed  unreal,  creatures  of  a 
fantastic  dream. 

And  the  girl  beside  him,  like  him  smitten  into  silence, 
was  real,  very  real.  Once,  driving  over  a  stone,  she 
swayed  against  his  shoulder;  a  current  of  fire  swept 
through  him,  mounting  intoxicating  to  his  brain. 

Suddenly  she  broke  into  a  laugh,  a  low,  subdued 
laugh.  "  So  we  add  a  moonlight  excursion  to  the  list 
of  our  adventures.  We  shall  have  all  hours  of  the  day 
to  remember,  shan't  we?  It  seems,"  she  added  com- 
plainingly,  "  that  I  must  always  take  the  aggressive. 
But  then  you  never  hunt  me  out  —  so  what  can  I  do  ? 
I  suppose  most  people  would  call  me  unwomanly.  Do 
you  think  me  that  ?  " 

"  I  do  not,"  he  answered  unsteadily.  "  You  can't 
expect  the  beneficiary  to  be  critical." 

"Do  you  mean  that,  I  wonder?  Or  is  it  only 
your  nice  way  of  letting  me  down  easily?  But  I  am 
not  conferring,  I  am  seeking.  A  —  a  friendship  — 
such  as  ours  —  means  a  great  deal  to  me."  Her  voice 
dwindled  away  into  silence. 

He  could  not  understand,  even  in  his  recklessness 
could  not  accept  at  its  face  value,  her  sudden  new  gen 
tleness.  He  was  not  so  stupid  as  not  to  know  that 
during  the  summer  she  had  singled  him  out  for  her 
favor.  But  he  had  not  the  monstrous  egotism  which 
enables  a  man  to  believe  that  every  woman  who  looks 
kindly  upon  him  is  making  love  to  him.  He  had  no 
theories  of  woman  as  the  huntress.  But  he  was  hard 
put  to  it  to  keep  a  tight  grip  on  himself,  to  fight  down 


THE  WILDERNESS  ROAD  107 

the  longing  surging  within  him.  Insistently  he  tried 
to  think  of  her  as  she  was,  an  unformed  woman  of 
essential  selfishness,  of  generous  caprices.  He  had 
not  yet  found  the  solution  to  the  problem  presented 
to  him  by  his  campaign,  but  he  felt  blindly  that  it  was 
leading  him  into  paths  whither  she  would  not  follow, 
into  which  he,  if  he  yielded  to  his  longing,  would  not 

—  could  not  —  go  alone.     He  had  sometimes  thought 
he   felt  in  her  that  which  would  carry  her  to  great 
heights;   yet   he   knew   she   was   now   of   the    earth, 
earthy.     He  feared  her,   feared  that  in  a  contest  of 
souls  she  would  prove  the  stronger.     And,  besides,  the 
new  hope  called  forth  by  her  new  gentleness  was  ab 
surd.     She  was  a  creature  of  luxury.     He  thought  of 
his  last  year's  income  and  laughed  unpleasantly. 

"  Why  this  sudden  hilarity  ?  "  she  demanded. 

"It's  a  joke  I've  just  thought  of  —  you  wouldn't 
appreciate  it." 

She  looked  at  him  intently.     He  averted  his  gaze. 

"  Are  you  sure  I  shouldn't?  "  she  asked. 

"  Quite,"  he  answered. 

"  Was  it,"  she  pressed  him,  "  was  it  about  your 
speech  to-night  ?  " 

"  Indirectly,  I  suppose,"  he  replied,  still  looking  the 
other  way,  willing  that  she  should  think  the  rally  the 
cause  of  his  mirth. 

"  Will  you  tell  me  about  that  ?     It  was  the  reason 

—  one  reason  —  why  I  wanted  you  to  come  home  with 
me.     I'm  of  two  minds  about  it.     Of  course,  I  didn't 
understand  what  it  was  all  about,  except  that  you  were 
expected  to   say   far  more   and   something  different. 
Any  one  could  see  that  the  men  on  the  platform  were 
angry.     But  one  had  the  feeling  that  somehow  you 


io8  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

were  finding  and  asserting  yourself  —  doing  some 
thing  rather  splendid.  I  know  it  made  Aunt  Roberta 
begin  to  snuffle  —  she  said  it  was  a  cold  in  her  head. 
I  heard  one  man  near  us  —  a  big,  hulking  farmer  — 
say,  '  By  Joshua !  I  always  thought  there  was  con- 
sider'ble  of  a  man  under  that  white  skin  of  Johnny 
Dunmeade's.'  He  didn't  mean  to  be  funny,  I  think. 
Another,  a  different  sort  of  man,  laughed  and  said, 
'  Now  that's  the  cleverest  move  yet.  He's  had  the  wit 
to  size  up  the  situation  in  this  county  and  kick  himself 
loose  from  a  rotten  ticket.  It's  a  grandstand  play, 
but  it'll  make  him  if  he's  big  enough  to  follow  it  up. 
It'll  get  him  a  following.'  " 

She  looked  up  at  him  inquiringly.  He  saw  again  the 
eager  interest  in  her  eyes. 

"  It  was  neither  splendid  nor  crafty,"  he  said 
grimly.  "  I  was  expected  to  rant  and  lie  about  the 
virtues  of  candidates  I've  no  faith  in,  cover  up  a  lot  of 
things  that,  it  seems,  can't  be  answered.  I  had  that 
speech  ready.  But  when  it  came  to  the  point  I 
couldn't  say  it.  That's  all." 

"  But  I  can  see,"  she  said  reflectively,  "  how  that 
might  mean  finding  yourself.  But  the  man  was  right 
—  it  will  make  you?  " 

Her  interest  was  explained,  he  thought  bitterly.  It 
was  the  cynic's  observation  that  had  interpreted  the 
speech  for  her. 

"  More  likely  the  contrary,"  he  answered.  In  the 
bright  moonlight  he  could  see  her  face  fall.  "  Shee- 
han  and  the  organization  will  probably  knife  me  under 
cover  and  beat  me." 

"  O,  surely  not !  I  don't  know  much  about  politics, 
of  course,  but  I  should  think,  if  your  speech  has  made 


THE  WILDERNESS  ROAD  109 

you  friends,  they  would  be  the  more  apt  to  stand  by 
you." 

"  I  don't  know  much  about  politics  either,"  he  said 
dryly,  "  but  I  am  learning.  This  is  very  simple.  I 
suspect  they  nominated  me  only  to  bring  strength  to 
the  state  ticket.  Now  that  I've  put  it  out  of  my  power 
to  help  it,  in  fact  have  publicly  refused  to  support  it, 
they'll  punish  me  —  if  only  as  a  horrible  example  to 
the  next  young  man  who  happens  along  with  a  work 
ing  conscience." 

"  Why,"  she  exclaimed  incredulously,  "  that  would 
elect  a  Democrat,  wouldn't  it?  " 

"  I'd  have  been  as  incredulous  myself  five  months 
ago." 

"  But  Senator  Murchell  won't  allow  it,  surely." 

"  Senator  Murchell  will  be  the  first  to  recommend 
the  knifing,"  he  laughed  shortly.  "  I  begin  to  suspect 
that  the  senator  is  a  false  god." 

"What  have  you  against  the  candidates?" 

"  It's  rather  against  the  forces  behind  them.  Bad 
methods  and  general  suspicion,  I  guess.  I  probably 
couldn't  make  it  clear." 

"  Just  that  ?  I  do  not  think,"  she  said  slowly,  "  that 
I  like  it,  after  all.  I'm  disappointed  in  —  for  you." 

"  Would  you  have  me  lie  ?  For  that's  what  it  would 
amount  to." 

"  O,"  she  cried,  "  that's  not  a  fair  way  to  put  it. 
I'm  so  ambitious  for  you !  That's  unwomanly,  too,  I 
suppose,  but  I  don't  care!  I  am  ambitious  for  you. 
And  I  do  so  admire  the  men  who  get  along!  And  in 
politics  you  could  go  so  far.  You  have  Senator  Mur- 
chell's  friendship.  You  don't  know  how  much  he  ad 
mires  you.  And  you  have  brains  and  popularity. 


no 

Everybody  says  that;  even  father  admits  it.  Then 
why  make  enemies  needlessly?  Of  course,  it's  fine  to 
use  one's  power  for  good,  but  one  must  get  the  power 
first.  And  I —  Do  you  know  what  I  would  do,  if 
I  were  a  man  like  you  ?  I  would  go  into  politics  seri 
ously.  I  would  master  methods  and  conditions  and 
adapt  them  to  my  purpose.  I  would  keep  on  until  the 
organization  —  I  know  something  about  organiza 
tions;  I've  been  quizzing  Senator  Murchell  this  sum 
mer —  was  mine.  And  then,  when  my  power  was 
secure,  I  would  remove,  little  by  little,  the  evils  I  saw, 
and  when  I  had  finished  and  measured  my  compromises 
against  the  good  I  had  done,  I  know  the  balance  would 
be  in  my  favor.  And,  after  all,  in  life,  isn't  good  or 
evil  merely  a  question  of  balances?"  Her  eloquence 
was  inspiring. 

But  he  merely  smiled  bitterly.  "  And  I  suspect  that 
by  the  time  I'd  got  the  power  in  the  fashion  you  de 
scribe,  I'd  have  become  the  sort  of  man  that  doesn't 
use  his  power  for  good." 

"  I  suppose,"  she  sighed,  "  there's  no  use  arguing 
with  you.  Dad  said  you  are  the  sort  of  man  that  will 
do  good  in  his  own  way  or  not  at  all." 

To  this  he  maintained  a  grim  silence. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  about  it  ?  " 

"  About  the  election  ?  "  He  shrugged  his  shoulders 
in  indifference.  "  Let  'em  beat  me,  I  suppose.  I 
haven't  thought  ahead  as  far  as  to-morrow." 

"  O,  well,  it's  done  anyway,  so  we  needn't  argue 
about  it.  I  wish,"  she  cried  impatiently,  "  I  were 
either  more  or  less  selfish.  I  suppose  you  think  me 
wholly  selfish  ?  "  He  looked  at  her  quickly,  surprised 
at  the  almost  wistful  inflection. 


"I  know  you  care,"  she  answered  simply 


THE  WILDERNESS  ROAD  in 

Yet  he  thought  a  moment  before  answering,  "  Not 
wholly  selfish." 

"  But  you're  cudgeling  your  brains  to  find  evidence 
that  I'm  not,  and  can't."  Her  laugh  rang  out  unpleas 
antly.  "That  wasn't  a  very  tactful  answer,  was  it? 
I  can  give  you  one  bit  of  evidence,  though.  Now 
that  it's  all  over,  I  can  admire  your  refusing  to  make 
that  speech.  It  was  splendid  in  a  way.  You  see,  I 
can  appreciate  unselfishness  in  the  abstract  or  when  it 
can't  be  remedied." 

"  I  told  you  that  wasn't  unselfish ;  it  was  involun 
tary,"  he  insisted.  "  But  I  can  add  to  the  evidence  — 
your  kindly,  even  if  mistaken,  interest  in  me  and  my  fu 
ture.  Arid  you  mustn't  sneer  at  yourself,"  he  added 
gravely. 

She  turned  to  look  fairly  into  his  eyes.  "  Do  you 
still  think  it  necessary  to  let  me  down  easily  ?  "  she 
asked  quietly. 

He  drew  a  sharp,  whistling  breath.  Bewildered,  he 
stared  at  her,  brain  rocking,  heart  leaping  convulsively, 
as  he  realized  the  import  of  her  words.  His  body  be 
came  rigid,  nails  biting  into  palms,  in  the  effort  not  to 
take  her  in  his  arms.  For,  without  reasoning,  he 
knew  that  to  accept  now  what  she,  unasked,  had  offered 
would  be  to  place  himself  in  her  power.  And  that  he 
dared  not! 

For  a  long  moment  their  eyes  clung;  then  at  the 
same  instant  they  both  looked  hastily  away. 

The  silent  minutes  lengthened,  as  the  cob  drew 
them  slowly  up  the  face  of  East  Ridge.  Behind  them 
lay  the  valley,  always  beautiful,  never  so  wondrous 
as  in  the  pallor  of  night;  but  they  looked  steadfastly 
ahead. 


Ii2  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

To  his  credit  be  it  written,  John  did  not  think  carp- 
ingly  of  her  boldness  —  let  us  use  the  word  he  used, 
courage.  His  longing  was  not  lessened  because  she 
had  abandoned  the  woman's  weapon  of  indirection  for 
the  man's  frankness.  Yet  his  hold  on  himself  did  not 
relax ;  it  became  even  the  more  secure.  And  he  won 
dered  at  the  strength  now  revealed  within  him,  able  to 
resist  the  temptation  of  her.  Her  shallow,  immature 
sophistry  he  cast  aside  as  inconsiderable;  she  herself 
was  the  temptation,  a  continuing  temptation,  he  fore 
saw.  He  knew  all  that  she  was,  and  he  knew,  too,  that 
he  desired,  would  always  desire  her  above  all  good 
things  that  life  holds;  yet  between  them  stood  an  ideal 
that  was  still  essential  to  him.  And  he  believed  that  he 
had  strength  to  put  her  —  the  temptation  —  away  from 
him.  He  believed  that  she  could  not  have  made  him 
speak  the  part  assigned  to  him  in  the  farce  of  the  early 
evening.  He  felt  that  she  could  not  deter  him  from  — • 
what? 

He  put  aside  his  self  measuring.  From  what? 
What  was  he  to  do  that  made  impossible  the  taking  of 
this  girl  by  his  side,  his  to  take  ? 

He  had  said  in  answer  to  her  question,  "  I  don't 
know.  Let  them  beat  me,  I  suppose."  He  suddenly 
knew  that  was  not  true.  The  challenge  flung  down 
when  his  soul,  flogged  by  his  gathering  knowledge,  had 
become  articulate,  must  be  sustained.  He  could  not 
let  himself  be  swept  aside  through  cowardly  default. 
He  must  make  his  fight. 

A  warm  glow  enveloped  him,  his  blood  quickened. 
He  straightened  up,  throwing  back  his  shoulders,  as 
though  to  brace  himself  for  a  physical  conflict.  He 
spoke  aloud. 


THE  WILDERNESS  ROAD  113 

"  I  will  fight  them." 

She  turned  to  look  at  him  again.  "  You  have 
thought  as  far  ahead  as  to-morrow,"  she  said  steadily. 

"  Further  than  that." 

They  turned  into  the  road  that  runs  along  the  crest 
of  the  Ridge.  The  horse,  left  to  its  own  gait,  trotted 
swiftly  the  mile  to  the  Hampden  place  and  up  the 
poplar-lined  driveway.  The  two  in  the  trap  sat 
silent. 

When  he  had  helped  her  to  alight,  both  her  hands 
were  in  his.  He  did  not  release  them  nor  did  she 
seek  to  disturb  his  clasp.  She  met  his  gaze  unfalter 
ingly. 

"  Listen !  "  he  said  gently.  "  I  didn't  know  that  you 
cared.  I,  too,  care;  far  more  than  you  will  believe." 

"  I  know  you  care,"  she  answered  simply.  "  And 
why  you  won't  —  take  me." 

"  I  have  known  it  ever  since  our  ride,"  he  went  on. 
"  That  is  why  I  have  not  seen  you  since.  And  —  a 
poor  man  has  not  the  right  to  do  more  than  ask  a 
woman  used  to  luxury  to  share  his  life ;  he  must  not 
try  to  persuade.  And  he  has  not  the  right  to  ask  any 
woman,  unless  she  can  sympathize  with  him,  help  him 
in  his  work.  If  she  couldn't,  it  would  bring  her  un- 
happiness  and  destroy  his  work.  You  —  I  —  we  are 
not  —  in  sympathy.  And  a  man's  work,  his  place  in 
life,  must  come  first.  I  have  been  led  into  something. 
I  can't  see  its  end,  but  I  feel  that  it  could  never  bring 
happiness  to  a  girl  who  cares  deeply  for  prestige  and 
power  and  the  things  that  money  buys.  You  know 
that,  too  —  that's  why  you  have  been  pointing  me  to  a 
different  ideal." 

"If  I  could  only  be  sure  of  myself!"   she  cried. 


ii4  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

"  You  are  so  many  things  that  I  care  for,  and  you  re 
fuse  to  take  —  so  many  things  that  I  care  for." 

"  The  things  that  you  care  for  can  be  had  only  at 
the  expense  of  the  things  that  are  —  that  I  hope  are 
—  indispensable  to  me.  I  don't  mean  to  be  priggish." 

"  You  aren't  priggish,"  she  answered  quickly.  Then 
she  went  on,  "  I  wonder,  can  one  make  oneself  over? 
I  wish  now  that  I  could.  But  then  perhaps  that  is 
only  because  it  is  —  now.  This  isn't  a  very  happy 
moment,  is  it,  for  either  of  us?  And  it's  less  happy 
for  me  than  for  you. —  Perhaps  to-morrow,  when  I 
weigh  you  against  the  things  I  have  and  want,  I  shall 
find  you  lacking."  She  tried  to  smile. 

He  made  no  reply.  He,  too,  was  wondering, 
Could  she  make  herself  over?  Could  he  make  her 
over?  Then  he  put  the  thought  hastily  away;  his 
strength,  not  yet  fully  tried,  could  not  be  trusted  so 
far.  Their  hands  fell  apart.  He  stood  awkwardly 
before  her  for  a  moment,  then  turned  as  though  to 
leave. 

"Are  you  going  to  relinquish  me  wholly?"  Her 
voice  was  still  steady,  but  in  the  moonlight  her  face 
was  very  white.  "  Don't !  I  —  this  summer  —  to 
night —  you  have  aroused  in  me  longings  for  some 
thing  different.  Perhaps  I  may  yet  become  big 
enough  to  be  happy  with  what  you  can  give  me  —  with 
you." 

He  was  trembling.  He  had  to  steel  himself  again 
before  he  could  reply.  "  I  can't  let  myself  hope  that 
you  will  come.  But  if  you  come,  it  must  be  without 
persuasion  from  me.  You  must  understand  that." 

She  went  a  few  steps  up  the  stairs  toward  the  ter 
race.  Then  she  stopped  and  faced  him  again. 


THE  WILDERNESS  ROAD  115 

"  Good-by.  And  thank  you  for  not  humiliating  me, 
for  saying  that  you  cared."  She  said  it  without  a 
quaver. 

She  paused  an  almost  imperceptible  moment.  But 
he  gave  no  answer.  She  resumed  the  ascent. 

"  Good-by."  He  got  into  the  trap  and  drove  away 
without  once  looking  back.  She  stood  on  the  terrace 
watching  him  until  he  turned  out  of  the  driveway  into 
the  road. 

"  John,  John !  "  she  whispered.  "  Why  didn't  you 
take  me  —  in  spite  of  myself!  "  Then  she  went  into 
the  house. 

In  the  hall  she  found  her  father,  reading.  He 
looked  at  her  sharply. 

"  You  look  done  out.  It  was  a  fool  errand. 
What's  Williams  driving  out  again  for?  " 

"  It  wasn't  Williams,"  she  answered.  "  John  Dun- 
meade  came  home  with  me." 

"  Humph !  "  he  growled.  "  You'll  be  making  a 
fool  of  yourself  over  that  fellow  yet,  if  you're  not 
careful." 

"  No,  I  won't,"  she  said  wearily.  "  He  won't  let 
me.  He  doesn't  want  me.  I  virtually  proposed  to 
him  to-night  and  he  virtually  told  me  I  am  a  selfish 

pig." 

"  Eh  ?  "  His  newspaper  dropped  from,  his  hands 
and  he  stared,  open-mouthed,  at  her.  "  The  devil  you 
did!  Well,  all  I've  got  to  say  is,  you  got  out  of  it 
luckier  than  you  deserve." 

"  And  I  suspect  he  is  right.  O,  why  didn't  you 
bring  me  up  differently  ?  " 

Again  he  looked  at  her  sharply.  "  It's  a  good  thing 
we're  going  away  to-morrow.  You  go  up-stairs  to 


n6  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

bed.  And  when  you  say  your  prayers,  thank  the  Lord 
that  I've  brought  you  up  to  be  what  you  are  and  that 
you  aren't  going  to  be  the  wife  of  a  one-horse  country 
lawyer." 

His  tone  was  more  vigorous  than  pious. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

ACROSS    THE    BORDER 

THE  next  morning  at  the  breakfast  table  Judge 
Dunmeade  sat  in  a  frigid  but  eloquent  silence. 
It  was  perhaps  well  that  he  had  acquired  a  whole 
some  respect  for  his  sister's  tongue  and  that  she  was 
present  to  police  the  occasion. 

When  they  rose,  John  began,  hesitatingly,  "  Father, 
last  night — " 

"  It  is  too  late  for  regrets,  sir." 

"  I  am  not  exactly  regretting.  But  I  felt  an  ex 
planation  — " 

"  Can  you,"  the  judge  interrupted  coldly,  "  explain 
away  the  fact  that  you  have  betrayed  the  party  that 
honored  you,  cast  discredit  upon  William  Murchell 
who  has  given  you  his  friendship,  upon  me  who  — 
can  you  explain  that  ?  " 

John  shook  his  head.  "  I  thought  I  could.  But, 
now,  I'm  afraid  not." 

The  judge's  lips  parted,  then  closed  firmly  as  though 
he  could  not  trust  himself  to  speak.  He  raised  his 
hand  in  a  gesture  in  which  grief  and  hopelessness  were 
blended  and,  turning,  stalked  slowly  from  the  room. 

John  smiled  uncertainly.  "  I'm  afraid,  Aunt  Ro 
berta,  your  bones  were  a  true  prophet." 

She  sighed  assentingly.  He  went  out  to  face  his 
neighbors  —  an  ordeal. 

117 


n8  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

New  Chelsea  was  rent  in  twain  —  nay,  into  many 
divisions  —  by  John's  speech ;  its  honest  but  partizan 
soul  sorely  troubled.  Only  the  few  lone  Democrats 
found  humor  in  the  situation.  There  were  those 
whose  vocabulary  proved  sadly  unequal  to  their  bitter 
ness  against  his  shameless  apostasy.  Grocer  Bellamy, 
for  instance,  after  having  held  forth  at  length  con 
cerning  Arnolds  and  Burrs  to  the  knot  of  men  await 
ing  the  morning  mail  turned  an  eloquent  back  upon 
the  arriving  John.  A  goodly  minority  were  equally 
vociferous  in  defense.  Cobbler  Marks,  who  had 
stepped  out  of  his  little  shop  for  his  improbable  mail 
and  the  certain  bit  of  gossip,  quite  forgetting  that  he 
had  not  put  off  his  leather  apron,  pointedly  took 
John's  arm  and  walked  a  block  with  him.  The  enmity 
between  grocer  and  cobbler  dated  from  that  instant. 

The  largest  number,  torn  betwixt  liking  for  their 
young  neighbor  and  the  mental  discomfort  of  those 
whose  traditions  have  been  rudely  jolted,  withheld 
judgment  until  they  could  see  what  befell.  Among 
the  farmers  was  no  dissension;  a  sudden  lifting  of 
heads,  a  still  half -unbelieving  rejoicing  that  the  young 
fellow,  who  as  he  sweat  with  them  in  the  fields  asked 
questions,  had  dared  to  voice  their  protest. 

The  Globe,  stanchly  Republican,  made  no  mention 
of  John's  part  in  the  rally  save  the  unconsciously  hu 
morous  sentence,  "  Attorney  John  Dunmeade  also 
spoke." 

Later,  not  greatly  uplifted  by  the  doubtful  honor  of 
being  a  bone  of  contention,  John  was  alone  in  his 
office,  smoking  furiously,  brow  wrinkled,  feet  propped 
on  the  table.  A  heavy  tread  in  the  outer  room  an 
nounced  the  arrival  of  a  visitor.  Without  knocking 


ACROSS  THE  BORDER  119 

the  new-comer  flung  open  the  door  and  strode  into 
the  office.  His  hat  was  pushed  back  on  his  head; 
an  unlighted  cigar  stuck  out  at  an  aggressive  angle 
from  the  corner  of  his  mouth.  He  surveyed  John  in 
mingled  anger  and  disgust.  John,  not  rising,  sighted 
over  lazy  feet. 

"  Good  morning,  Sheehan,"  he  said  with  a  pleasant 
ness  that  would  have  carried  a  warning  to  a  calmer 
observer  than  the  boss. 

Without  invitation  Sheehan  sat  down.  "  Well," 
he  growled,  "you  played  hell,  didn't  you?  " 

"  I  tried  to,"  John  smiled.  "  Do  you  think  I  suc 
ceeded?  " 

"  When  a  young  feller  like  you,"  Sheehan  declared, 
"  thinks  he  is  better  than  his  party,  he's  got  a  lot  to 
learn." 

John  considered  this  statement  for  a  moment.  "  I 
do  not,"  he  concluded,  "  think  I  am  better  than  my 
party." 

Sheehan  caught  the  point.  "  Huh !  Guess  you 
don't  know  who  the  party  is." 

"  That's  just  what  I'm  trying  to  decide.  Perhaps 
you  can  enlighten  me  ?  " 

"  I  can.  A  party,"  Sheehan  spoke  with  intense 
conviction ;  "  a  party  is  those  that  control  it." 

"  Then  in  Benton  County  you're  the  party  ?  " 

"  Exactly !     Me  and  Murchell." 

"  Then,  modestly,  I  do  think  I'm  better  than  the 
party,"  John  responded,  still  pleasantly.  "  And,  as 
you  say,  I've  a  lot  to  learn.  Have  you  come  to  teach 
me?" 

"  Say,  hain't  you  no  respect  for  my  position  in  this 
county?  " 


120  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

"  For  your  position,  a  great  deal.  For  you  —  none 
at  all." 

Sheehan  grinned  in  spite  of  himself. 

"  I  like  your  nerve !  That's  what  makes  me  sore," 
he  went  on  reproachfully.  "  I  like  you.  I  was  glad 
to  do  you  a  favor.  I  gave  you  a  chance  to  get  in 
strong  with  us.  And  you  go  and  beef  it  by  throwin' 
down  the  state  ticket.  What  in  hell  did  you  do  it 
for?" 

"  I'm  afraid  you  wouldn't  understand,  Sheehan. 
It's  a  question  of  ideals." 

Sheehan  snorted.  "  Ideals  —  hell !  I  know  all 
about  'em.  What's  ideals?  Can  you  eat  'em?  Can 
you  wear  'em?  Can  you  stuff  'em  into  your  pants 
pocket  like  this  ?  "  He  illustrated  by  drawing  out  a 
fat  roll  of  bills.  "  Will  they  get  you  votes  ?  " 

"  Possibly  not." 

"  Possibly  not !  Say,"  the  boss  leaned  forward  and 
argued  earnestly,  "  I  talk  a  lot  of  foolish  talk,  but 
I'm  smart  enough  to  know  the  game.  When  I  came 
to  Plumville  fifteen  years  ago  all  I  owned  was  the 
shirt  on  my  back.  Now  I  can  buy  out  any  man  in 
Benton  County  exceptin'  Steve  Hampden  and  Mur- 
chell,  and  when  they  want  anything  here  they're  glad 
enough  to  come  to  me  and  make  it  worth  my  while 
to  give  it  to  'em.  -/  didn't  get  it  by  liavin3  ideals.  I've 
seen  a  lot  o'  young  college  fellers  like  you  goin'  in 
politics  with  'em.  Well,  they're  in  the  boneyard  now. 
'Relse,  when  they  want  anything,  they  come  to  fellers 
like  me.  Ain't  that  so?" 

"  I  have  reason  to  believe  that's  been  true." 

And  how  true!  John  thought,  judging  from  his 
narrow  experience.  Was  it  possible  that  the  seats  of 


"  Can  you  stuff  'em   in  your  pocket  like  this?" 


ACROSS  THE  BORDER  121 

the  mighty  were  reserved  only  for  the  Murchells,  the 
Hampdens,  the  Sheehans?  He  thought  disgustedly 
of  the  coarse,  brutish  thing  before  him.  Yet  Shee- 
han  could  command  his  retinue  of  Jeremys  and 
Maleys !  He  looked  up  suddenly.  "  Sheehan,  who  is 
Butch  Maley?" 

"  And  that's  another  thing  that  makes  me  sore," 
Sheehan  resumed  his  reproachful  air.  "  You  threw 
Butch  down  last  night  and  it  cost  me  fifty  to  square 
it.  That's  no  way  to  play  politics.  Who's  Butch 
Maley?  He's  the  fourth  precinct,  fourth  ward,  that's 
what  he  is,  and  it's  the  biggest  precinct  in  the  city. 
He's  the  whole  works,  voters  and  election  board." 

"  You  mean,  he  monkeys  with  the  count?  " 

"  I  mean,"  replied  Sheehan  significantly,  "  that 
when  we  need  a  few  votes,  we  can  always  get  'em 
from  Butch's  precinct." 

"I  see.  I've  heard  of  those  precincts.  H-m-m! 
Sheehan,  I  don't  think  you're  as  smart  as  you  think 
you  are." 

The  boss  observed  him  suspiciously,  but  his  question 
was  forestalled. 

"  Well !  "  John  brought  his  feet  to  the  floor  and 
sat  upright.  "  What  did  you  come  to  teach  me?  " 

"  I  come  to  give  you  another  chance.  You  can  give 
an  interview  sayiri'  that  you  was  misunderstood,  that 
you're  for  the  state  ticket  strong  and  want  all  your 
friends  to  vote  for  it." 

"  Is  that  an  order  or  a  request?  " 

"  Whichever  you  please,"  Sheehan  answered  shortly. 

"And  if  I  don't  do  it?" 

"  There's  a  Democrat  runnin'  for  district  attorney." 

"Why,    Sheehan!"     John    simulated    reproachful 


122  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

surprise  well.  "  Surely  you  wouldn't  go  back  on  your 
party!  —  But  I  forget,  you're  the  party,  aren't  you? 
I  suppose  Simcox  belongs  to  the  party,  too."  Sim- 
cox  was  John's  Democratic  opponent.  "  And  if  I 
do?" 

"  Then  you'll  win." 

John  got  leisurely  to  his  feet.  His  visitor  also  rose. 
"  Sheehan,  you're  lying.  You'll  knife  me  in  any  case. 
Well,  I  won't  do  it.  So  go  ahead  and  beat  me  —  if 
you  can." 

"If  I  can!"  The  boss  spat  contemptuously.  "Do 
you  think  you  can  do  anything  without  us  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  But,"  John  said  with  an  accession 
of  cheerfulness  that  was  not  at  all  bravado,  "  I'm 
going  to  find  out.  Anyhow,  I'd  rather  be  beaten  than 
be  beholden  to  you,  you —  Do  you  know  what  you 
are,  Sheehan?  You're  not  smart,  you're  just  greedy 
and  there's  been  nobody  to  thwart  you.  You're  just 
a  big  bully  with  a  soul  as  fat  as  your  body.  Do  you 
know  you're  getting  awfully  fat?"  He  began  prod 
ding  the  other,  none  too  gently,  about  the  ribs  and 
stomach.  His  fingers  found  only  soft,  yielding  cush 
ions  of  fat. 

"  Don't  get  fresh,  young  feller."  But  Sheehan  drew 
back,  nevertheless.  John  followed  him  and  continued 
his  inspection. 

"  Why  don't  you  take  exercise  ?  I  may  be  pre 
judiced,  but  I  never  saw  a  fat  man  yet  that  was  brave. 
I'll  bet  a  dollar  that  if  you  got  a  good  licking  you'd 
whimper  like  a  baby.  I'd  like  to  try  it.  I  may  do 
it,  too,  some  of  these  days.  If  I'm  elected,  Sheehan, 
I'd  advise  you  to  buy  a  passage  to  Mexico  or  some 
place  where  extradition  laws  don't  hold.  You  needn't 


ACROSS  THE  BORDER  123 

bother  about  a  round  trip  ticket,  either.  I'm  probably 
not  showing  wisdom  in  telling  you  what  I'll  do  if 
elected,  but,  as  you  suggested,  I've  a  lot  to  learn." 

Sheehan  tried  to  sneer,  "  Don't  get  — " 

"  You  said  that  before,"  John  interposed.  Then 
all  his  disgust  for  the  man  before  him  found  expres 
sion.  "In  the  meantime,  get  out!"  Sheehan  as 
sumed  a  blustering  air.  "  It's  shorter  by  the  window, 
but  you  may  prefer  the  door." 

He  seemed  to  the  other  just  then  a  very  capable 
young  man.  The  boss,  after  a  moment's  inward  de 
bate,  chose  discretion  as  the  better  part  of  valor. 

John  went  to  the  window,  threw  it  open,  and  watched 
the  bulky  figure  pass  out  of  sight  around  the  corner. 
He  filled  his  lungs  with  the  cool,  clear  autumn  air. 

"  That's  the  first  easy  breath  I've  drawn  since  they 
came  to  offer  me  the  nomination.  I'm  free  again. 
And  now  I've  got  to  make  my  bluff  good.  And,"  he 
smiled  satirically  at  himself,  "  I've  heard  that  work 
is  the  only  cure  for  —  love-sickness." 

He  lost  no  time  applying  the  cure. 

The  election  was  a  week  away.  A  week  is  a  short 
time,  but  in  it,  if  you  are  a  young  man  not  unwilling 
to  lose  an  occasional  night's  sleep,  a  great  deal  can 
be  accomplished.  It  would  be  courting  incredulity  to 
record  here  how  many  miles  John  and  Lightning  trav 
ersed  during  the  succeeding  seven  days,  how  many 
men  were  called  upon.  He  had  during  the  months 
of  his  candidacy  learned  something  about  "  organiza 
tions  " ;  he  now  made  this  knowledge  serve  his  pur 
pose. 

His  journeys  took  him  into  Plumville  and  into 
every  ward  thereof,  and  into  the  townships.  In  these 


124  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

latter  districts  he  had  less  need  of  the  diplomat's 
tongue  to  win  recruits  — "  workers  "  they  were  called 
and  well  called  —  he  found  volunteers  aplenty,  Farm 
ers  Cranshawe  and  Sykes  and  Criswell  and  oth 
ers,  sober,  unemotional  men  who  were  yet  willing  to 
follow  in  a  forlorn  hope.  On  the  day  before  election, 
faith  in  his  fellows  quickened,  he  moved  on  New 
Chelsea.  When  election  day  dawned,  a  beautiful, 
cloudless  day  —  happy  omen !  —  he  knew  that  at  every 
polling-place  in  the  county  was  one  man,  at  least,  work 
ing  in  the  interest  of  John  Dunmeade,  and  that  most 
of  them  would  be  loyal. 

The  Republican  state  ticket  had  a  narrow  escape 
that  autumn;  only  the  two  great  cities  with  their 
machines,  their  fraud  and  their  supineness  saved  it. 
Benton  County  went  Democratic;  not  entirely,  how 
ever.  The  Republicans  saved  one  brand  from  the 
burning,  although  a  certain  faction  of  the  party  was 
not  greatly  elated  over  this  partial  victory. 

State  Senator  and  Boss  James  Sheehan,  election 
evening,  was  seen  to  grin  affably  as  the  early  returns 
began  to  come  in  from  the  Plumville  wards,  showing  a 
comfortable  and  apparently  safe  majority  for  Sim- 
cox.  He  laughed  outright  when  he  read  the  result 
in  the  fourth  precinct,  fourth  ward.  The  word  from 
New  Chelsea  made  the  grin  shrink  perceptibly.  And 
by  early  moring,  when  the  rural  townships  had  re 
ported,  it  had  disappeared  entirely. 

About  the  same  hour  a  young  man,  pale,  stirred  to 
the  depths  by  a  victory  he  had  not  believed  possible, 
could  not  understand,  was  at  his  window  gazing  wor- 
shipfully  up  into  the  sky. 


ACROSS  THE  BORDER  125 

"  I    have    found    my   place.     .     .     .     My   people! 

I  am  willing  to  pay.     .     . 
It  was  a  vow  of  consecration. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE    CRUSADER 

THE  court-room  in  the  dingy  old  court-house  was 
crowded,  past  the  point  of  mere  discomfort. 
The  uncertain  May  breeze,  lazily  proffering  a  bit  of 
relief,  was  turned  back  by  the  screen  of  those  more 
fortunate  spectators  who  had  secured  coigns  of 
vantage  on  the  fire-escape  outside  the  open  windows. 
The  court-room  had  filled  that  morning  a  full  hour 
before  the  judge  stalked  to  the  bench  and  the  crier 
began  his  singsong  "  Oyez !  Oyez !  "  Many,  fearing 
to  lose  their  places  at  the  price  of  the  noonday  meal, 
had  been  there  throughout  the  day.  Certain  gentle 
men  from  Plumville  were  present,  dejected,  anxious 
of  mien;  many  citizens  of  New  Chelsea,  quite 
aware  that  their  town  had  acquired  a  new  fame  but 
still  somewhat  dazed  by  the  rapid  unfolding  of  events 
of  which  this  was  the  climax;  farmers  who  had  de 
serted  their  fields,  silent,  thoughtful,  hopeful.  Around 
a  table  at  the  end  of  the  jury-box  were  blase  reporters 
even  from  the  Steel  City.  Editor  Harvey  of  the 
Globe  sat  there,  clad  in  his  long-tailed  Sunday  coat, 
a  pile  of  manuscript  before  him;  he  had  no  need  to 
confine  his  account  to  telegraphic  brevity  since  he 
wielded  his  own  blue  pencil. 

The  voice  of  the  defendant's  counsel  rose  and  fell. 
He  was  something  of  an  actor  and  he  put  a  deal  of 

126 


THE  CRUSADER  127 

convincing  passion  into  his  words;  in  New  Chelsea 
oratory  is  still  loved.  The  audience  hung  intent,  al 
most  breathless,  on  the  scene  enacted  before  them. 
They  had  the  feeling  of  being  not  spectators  but  par 
ticipants  in  the  little  drama.  Perhaps  they  were,  for 
it  was  the  trial  of  Jim  Sheehan. 

Senator  Murchell  was  not  listening  to  the  speech. 
He  sat  immediately  behind  the  defendant  in  the  chair 
that,  thanks  to  the  fat,  obsequious  tipstaff,  had  been 
his  during  the  three  days  of  the  trial;  this,  argued 
his  secret  enemies,  was  evidence  of  his  failing  astute 
ness,  since  his  presence  identified  him  with  Sheehan's 
cause.  But  the  senator  was  not  thinking  of  this.  He 
was  intently  regarding  the  set  profile  across  the  coun 
sel-table  and  measuring  the  man  he  saw  there  against 
the  boyish,  eager  and  very  likable  young  man  whom, 
almost  a  year  before,  a  little  boss  and  a  big  had  sought 
to  press  into  their  service.  John  Dunmeade  had 
grown.  One  saw  that  in  the  already  grave,  almost  sad, 
lines  of  his  face.  Work  and  thought  and  responsi 
bility  and  purpose  —  and  something  else  of  which  the 
senator  had  no  inkling  —  had  set  their  stamp  upon  him. 
The  senator  felt  that  here  was  one  whose  latent 
strength  had  been  revealed  to  himself  and  proven  to 
others.  "  A  capable,  forceful  man,"  he  thought. 
One  who  was  beginning  to  realize  the  gravity  of  the 
task  of  him  who  sets  out  to  improve  this  best  of  all 
worlds.  To  the  senator  in  the  arrogance  born  of  the 
habit  of  power,  it  did  not  occur  that  the  man  across 
the  table  might  represent  a  new  force  in  the  field  of 
activity  which  he  had  made  his  own.  He  studied  the 
set  profile  searchingly  for  some  evidence  of  a  hidden 
lack.  Or  was  there  a  lack? 


128  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

There  had  been  no  lack  of  accomplishment  during 
the  five  months  of  office-holding.  To  this  truth  elo 
quent  witnesses  might  have  been  called:  Butch  Maley 
and  Red  Bricker,  already  serving  terms  in  the  peni 
tentiary;  Slayton,  a  fugitive,  bail-forf eited ;  Brown 
and  Parsons,  free  only  pending  appeal ;  and  now  Shee- 
han,  his  fate  hanging  in  the  balance.  Despite  mis 
takes,  despite  abuse  and  temptations,  despite  the  craft 
of  the  famous  Whittredge,  brought  at  great  price  from 
the  Steel  City,  and  the  frenzied  efforts  of  the  Benton 
County  Machine  to  clog  the  wheels  of  justice,  John 
had  gone  steadily  ahead  with  surprising  and  growing 
skill,  one  step  at  a  time  but  never  swerving  from  the 
line  of  his  purpose.  Under  his  feet  lay  a  once  very 
efficient  Machine,  now  shaking  with  fright,  wondering 
upon  whom  the  next  blow  of  the  pursuing  Nemesis 
would  fall.  The  Machine,  Senator  Murchell  knew, 
would  be  rebuilt  better  and  stronger  than  ever,  but 
for  the  present  it  was  sadly,  sadly  out  of  gear. 

He  let  his  glance  stray  from  John  to  the  defendant. 
Sheehan  sat  slouched  in  his  chair  in  an  attitude  that 
he  vainly  sought  to  render  jaunty,  confident.  His 
cheeks  had  fallen  in  slightly,  his  eyelids  were  puffy 
and  red-rimmed.  His  mouth  hung  flabbily.  His 
hands  played  nervously  with  a  piece  of  paper.  Out  of 
his  eyes  looked  a  sickening  fear.  He  was  drinking 
in  thirstily  the  words  of  his  counsel,  a  draught  to 
sustain  sinking  hope ;  —  evidently  a  coward  badly 
frightened.  The  contrast  was  great.  Murchell,  with 
an  unfamiliar  qualm  of  disgust,  returned  to  his  study 
of  the  district  attorney. 

Whittredge   brought   his   brilliant   peroration   to    a 


THE  CRUSADER  129 

close.  The  audience  sighed  audibly.  A  buzz  of  low- 
voiced  comment  arose. 

"  Silence!  "  roared  the  tipstaff  pompously. 

The  lawyer  took  his  seat  beside  the  counsel-table. 
His  client  turned  to  him  with  a  look  of  nervous  in 
quiry.  Whittredge  shook  his  head. 

"A  chance  —  a  bare  chance,  that's  all,"  he  whis 
pered.  "  Confound  these  rubes !  " 

The  look  of  fear,  almost  ludicrous  on  the  big,  fat 
face,  deepened.  Sheehan  turned  supplicatingly  to 
Murchell,  as  though  from  that  resourceful  man  help 
might  somehow  come.  Murchell  ignored  the  look. 
Sheehan  sank  back  in  his  chair,  his  defiant  attitude 
broken. 

The  audience  relapsed  into  an  expectant  silence,  all 
eyes  fixed  on  the  district  attorney.  For  a  moment 
he  remained  as  he  had  sat  throughout  the  plea  for 
the  defense,  motionless,  leaning  a  little  forward  and 
staring  fixedly  at  the  wall  behind  the  judge,  as  though 
he  saw  a  vision.  Murchell  wondered  if  he  had  heard, 
a  word  of  Whittredge's  speech. 

The  moment  ended.  He  rose  and  stood  before  the. 
jury-box,  first  addressing  the  court.  He  smiled 
gravely  at  the  jurors.  It  had  taken  a  whole  day's  ses 
sion  to  select  them,  but  he  knew  them  and  that  they 
were  well  chosen.  Then  the  smile  faded  from  his 
lips  and  eyes,  replaced  by  a  look  to  which  his  neigh 
bors  were  growing  accustomed.  He  began  to  speak. 

"  Gentlemen  of  the  jury,  what  I  have  to  do  is  not 
pleasant.  But  there  is  a  thing  called  duty.  .  .  ." 

As  the  first  words  fell,  Murchell's  interest  leaped ; 
he  knew  that  he  was  seeing  a  man  mount  to  a  cli- 


130  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

max  in  his  life.  From  the  beginning  the  audience  was 
caught  in  the  man's  spell,  by  something  that  breathed 
through  his  voice  and  that  had  been  absent  from 
Whittredge's  perfervid  periods.  He  had  a  clear,  flexi 
ble  voice  and  knew  how  to  use  it,  but  it  was  not  his 
oratory  that  wove  the  spell.  His  speech  represented 
much  thought  and  preparation,  yet  there  was  in  it 
nothing  theatric,  nothing  insincere.  He  spoke  simply, 
without  rhetorical  flourish,  but  with  a  restrained  pas 
sion  to  which  his  hearers,  vaguely  wondering  but  un 
resisting,  yielded.  They  soon  ceased  to  wonder,  for 
he  had  that  gift  of  the  true  orator,  the  ability  to  make 
his  listeners  forget  the  speaker  in  what  he  said. 

The  speech  had  been  skilfully  planned.  At  first  he 
confined  his  argument  to  the  jury  and  the  case  at 
bar.  Logically  he  marshaled  the  evidence  against  the 
defendant  and  analyzed  the  defense.  Then,  when  he 
felt  that  he  had  brought  intellectual  conviction  to  all, 
be  began  to  direct  his  words  at  the  audience,  not  for 
the  telepathic  effect  on  the  jury  but  because  he  be 
lieved  a  verdict  of  guilty  would  be  worthless  unless  it 
aroused  a  common  horror  for  the  crime.  He  painted 
it  in  livid  outline;  he  made  them  see  it  through  his 
eyes.  It  ceased  to  be  merely  technical,  assumed  a 
moral  significance,  became  a  treachery,  a  blow  against 
the  vital  institution  of  government;  it  meant  political 
retrogression,  anarchy,  government  not  by  the  social 
body  but  by  dishonest  individual  craft. 

Never  afterward,  in  a  speech,  did  John  reach  quite 
the  same  heights  as  on  the  afternoon  when  the  bright 
blade  of  his  young  indignation  cut  into  the  consciences 
of  his  hearers.  The  matter  became  deeply  personal 
with  them.  Each  man  suddenly  felt  himself  ag- 


THE  CRUSADER  131 

grieved,  felt  that  a  shameful  attempt  had  been  made 
to  take  advantage  of  his  good  faith  and  trust.  And 
then,  even  while  they  were  condemning  Sheehan,  John 
seemed  to  arraign  them.  He  set  them  to  asking  the 
question,  What  part  have  I  in  this  crime?  Such  of 
fenses  are  possible  only  among  a  people  asleep,  whose 
conscience  is  inactive,  who  have  ceased  to  care  for  the 
honesty  of  their  institutions.  They  were  both  ag 
grieved  and  aggressors.  .  . 

.  .  .  Senator  Murchell  sat  to  all  outward  seem 
ing  impassive.  He  listened,  as  astonished  as  the  rest, 
but  with  understanding  and  —  he  was  himself  amazed 
to  mark  it  —  sadly.  For  he  read  in  the  ardent  face 
and  words  a  passion  for  a  hopeless  ideal.  He  felt 
a  genuine  pity  for  the  young  man  whom  despite  his 
apostesy  he  still  liked  and  would  have  been  glad  to 
spare  —  even,  since  this  revelation  of  power,  to  lift 
into  high  places  —  but  who  had,  he  believed,  with 
the  reckless,  impractical  chivalry  of  dreamers  of  all 
times,  given  himself  to  a  forlorn  cause.  He  saw 
whither  John's  argument  led.  He  thought  he  saw, 
too,  what  must  come  afterward  when  the  young 
dreamer,  rapt  eyes  fixed  on  an  ideal  too  tenuous, 
too  distant  to  be  realized,  encountered  the  skepticism 
and  unresponsiveness  of  a  practical,  workaday  world. 
So  much  power,  he  thought,  going  to  waste!  For 
he  knew,  better  than  did  those  who  possessed  it,  the 
power  of  moral  passion  controlled  —  but  always 
properly  controlled !  Was  there  not  some  way  to  bind 
this  force  to  his  interest? 

John  came  to  the  end  of  his  argument.  There  was 
no  reason  to  believe  Sheehan's  crime  unique.  The 
nonchalant,  matter-of-fact  manner  in  which  it  had 


132  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

been  committed,  the  genuine  indignation  aroused  in 
certain  quarters  by  the  prosecution,  indicated  that  it 
was  an  established  practice  of  the  organization  that 
profited  by  the  crime.  And  indeed  bribery  at  the 
polls,  falsification  of  election  returns  were  familiar 
weapons  of  Machine  politics,  so  long  used  that  they 
had  ceased  to  arouse  horror  and  revolt  in  the  care 
less,  calloused  hearts  of  the  people.  They  explained 
the  continuance  of  the  Machine  in  power.  They  shed 
a  bright  light,  too,  on  the  so-called  genius  of  certain 
political  leaders  at  which  men  marveled  as  at  some 
miraculous  manifestation  of  godlike  mind  —  it  was 
not  genius,  merely  crude,  primitive  dishonesty  requir 
ing  the  direction  of  no  commanding  intellect,  needing 
nothing  but  the  will  to  debauch  others'  honor. 

The  senator,  grim  veteran  as  he  was  of  a  hundred 
battles  with  just  such  "  unpractical  dreamers,"  caught 
himself  wincing  under  the  scornful  thrusts.  Never 
before  had  he  been  told  that  his  power  and  the  means 
of  its  attainment  were  not  the  splendid  badge 
of  unusual  strength  but  the  booty  of  contemptible 
craft. 

"  You  have  been  told,"  cried  the  young  orator,  "  that 
this  is  a  case  of  my  ambition  seeking  a  sacrifice.  I  and 
my  ambition  have  nothing  to  do  with  it.  Neither  has 
the  defendant,  save  that  his  safety  and  silence  mean 
the  safety  of  those  guiltier  men  whose  tool  he  is. 
This  is  a  case  of  the  greedy  horde  that,  hungry  for 
our  dollars,  steals  or  corruptly  buys  the  power  which 
honest  men  can  not  be  duped  into  giving,  against  those 
upon  whom  they  prey.  It  is  a  case  of  the  organiza 
tion,  parading  under  the  name  of  a  great  party,  for  a 
purpose  whose  reach  we  can  not  yet  measure,  against 


THE  CRUSADER  133 

the  people.  It  is  the  case  — "  He  paused  sharply,  to 
look  squarely  at  Senator  Murchell.  All  eyes  followed 
his.  "  It  is  the  case  of  government  by  individual  craft 
and  greed  against  government  by  the  law  that  is  the 
expression  of  the  moral  sense  of  the  people." 

He  sat  down.  The  audience  stirred  uneasily. 
Murchell  smiled  grimly. 

"  Splendid  daring!  "  Whittredge  whispered  to  Mur 
chell.  "  A  magnificent  actor." 

"  That,"  said  Murchell,  "  is  not  acting.  He  means 
it." 

"  In  our  day !  "  Whittredge  raised  his  eyebrows 
skeptically.  "  We've  lost  —  but  he  risked  a  good  deal 
by  bringing  in  extraneous  matter." 

"  It  isn't  extraneous  matter,"  Murchell  answered 
dryly.  "  He  isn't  thinking  of  this  case." 

"  You  know  him  better  than  I  do,  of  course.  I 
fancy,  judging  from  the  surprise  depicted  on  the  faces 
of  our  bucolic  friends,  that  we've  brought  out  an  un 
expected  Jack  Cade  in  these  trials.  I  fancy  you'll  find 
him  difficult  —  for  a  while.  I'm  rather  sorry  for 
him.  I,"  the  famous  lawyer  smiled,  "  I  was  that  sort 
myself  once." 

The  voice  of  the  judge,  cold  and  even,  devoid  of 
emotion,  as  he  began  to  instruct  the  jury,  broke 
the  tension.  Critical  listeners  observed  that  his 
charge  favored  the  defendant  rather  more  strongly 
than  the  evidence  seemed  to  require.  They  at 
tributed  it  to  his  anxiety  not  to  be  biased  by  the 
fact  that  the  district  attorney  was  his  son ;  Judge  Dun- 
meade  was  said  to  possess  an  admirably  judicial  tem 
perament.  The  jury,  importantly  led  by  the  fat  bailiff, 
filed  out  of  the  court-room.  There  were  no  other 


134  HIS    RISE    TO    POWER 

cases  on  the  day's  list  and  the  judge  stalked  down 
from  the  bench  to  await  the  verdict  in  his  chambers. 
John  went  to  his  office.  Senator  Murchell  and 
Whittredge  conducted  the  drooping  Sheehan  to  the 
witness-room  away  from  the  curious  eyes  of  the 
crowd.  A  buzz  of  excited  conversation  rose,  unre- 
buked  by  the  tipstaff.  Most  of  the  spectators  waited 
to  see  the  end  of  the  drama. 

A  half  hour  later  the  buzz  of  conversation  suddenly 
ceased.  The  judge  was  returning  to  the  bench. 
Sheehan  with  Whittredge  and  Murchell  took  their  seats 
by  the  table.  They  were  followed  by  John.  Then 
the  jury  filed  back  into  the  box.  The  room  became 
absolutely  still;  the  atmosphere  suddenly  funereal, 
painful.  Sheehan  leaned  forward  nervously,  half 
raising  himself  from  his  chair. 

The  foreman  gave  a  paper  to  the  bailiff,  who  handed 
it  to  the  clerk.  He  glanced  at  it  eagerly ;  then  his  face 
became  very  solemn.  He  passed  the  verdict  on  to 
the  judge,  who  looked  at  it  coldly  and  returned  it. 
The  clerk  faced  the  jurors. 

"Gentlemen  of  the  jury,  harken  to  your  verdict  as 
the  court  hath  recorded  it.  You  find  the  defendant 
guilty  as  indicted.  And  so  say  you  all  ?" 

The  jurors  nodded.  Sheehan  fell  back  in  his  chair 
with  an  audible  groan.  Two  big  tears  coursed  ludi 
crously  down  his  fat  cheeks.  But  nobody  laughed. 
He  plucked  anxiously  at  Murchell's  sleeve. 

"Have  I  got  to  go  to  jail?"  he  whimpered. 

Murchell  drew  away  from  the  touch.  "Not  unless 
our  friend  Whittredge  has  forgotten  how  to  delay 
justice." 


THE  CRUSADER  135 

At  the  word  Sheehan's  face  was  twisted  into  an 
ugly  sneer. 

"Justice!"  he  whispered  bitterly.  His  clutch  on 
Murchell's  arm  tightened.  "  You  got  to  get  me  out 
of  this,  see?  " 

Murchell  looked  at  him  without  answer.  Some 
thing  in  the  glance  made  Sheehan  cower  back  sullenly 
in  his  chair. 

The  jury  was  discharged.  Whittredge  informed 
the  court  that  the  defense  would  move  for  a  new  trial, 
bail  was  renewed,  and  the  court  was  adjourned.  The 
audience  slowly  made  its  way  out  into  the  Square, 
where  little  knots  of  noisy,  excited  men  gathered. 

Whittredge  stepped  up  to  John,  holding  out  his  hand. 
"  I  congratulate  you,"  he  smiled  genially.  "  You  took 
exactly  the  right  tack."  John  quickly  disengaged  his 
hand;  he  felt  that  the  congratulation  was  in  poor 
taste. 

He  saw  Sheehan  standing  forlornly  by  the  table. 
The  big,  ponderous  figure  with  the  misery  shining  out 
of  its  eyes  seemed  very  pathetic.  And,  after  all,  Shee 
han  was  the  worst  victim  of  the  system.  Impulsively 
John  went  over  to  him. 

"  Sheehan,"  he  said,  "  I'm  sorry.  I  —  I  don't  like 
to  hurt  any  one." 

The  convicted  man  eyed  him  in  almost  childlike  re 
proach.  "  After  all  I've  done  for  you !  "  Whittredge 
stroked  his  mustache  to  conceal  a  broad  smile.  Shee 
han  suddenly  seized  one  of  John's  hands  in  both  his 
own.  "  Johnny,  can't  you  get  me  out  of  this  —  let  me 
off?  I'll  get  out  of  here  —  never  go  into  politics  again, 
so  help  me !  " 


136  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

John's  heart  gave  him  a  wrench  as  he  shook  his 
head.  "  I  wish  I  could,  Sheehan,"  he  replied  hon 
estly.  "  But  you're  out  of  my  hands  now." 

He  turned  away  sadly,  no  sense  of  triumph  in  his 
victory.  He  caught  up  his  hat  and  went  slowly  out 
of  the  court-room,  unaware  that  Murchell  was  follow 
ing  him. 

When  he  appeared  at  the  door  of  the  court-house 
some  one  raised  a  cheer.  It  passed  along  from  group 
to  group,  until  all  in  the  Square  had  joined  in  a  short, 
sharp  salute.  It  was  not  an  hysterical  demonstration, 
but  unusual  for  calm,  self-contained  New  Chelsea.  It 
lasted  only  a  few  seconds. 

John,  startled,  deeply  moved  by  this  the  first  cheer 
that  he  had  earned  and  received  —  campaign  salutes 
did  not  count  —  shrank  back  from  the  doorway :  to 
face  Murchell.  Not  until  later  did  John  realize  the 
kindly  quality  of  the  smile  on  the  older  man's  face; 
when  he  did,  he  was  puzzled  by  it.  He  had  not  ex 
pected  magnanimity  from  the  big  politician  whom  he 
had  chosen  to  attack. 

"  Young  man,"  said  the  senator,  "  enjoy  this  mo 
ment.  It  won't  last  long.  You  are  at  your  apex  — 
you  are  a  hero  among  your  neighbors." 

John's  face  reflected  the  tumult  of  feeling  within 
him.  "  Ah !  they  are  good  people !  "  he  cried,  more 
to  himself  than  to  Murchell.  "  They  pay  in  advance 
what  I  have  yet  to  earn." 

Murchell  laughed  cynically.  "  You  won't  earn  what 
you  think  you  will.  They  won't  let  you.  They  are 
cheering  you,  not  what  you  said." 

"  Not  me,  but  what  I  said.     They  see  a  principle." 

"  You're  not  the  first  man  who  has  held  that  de- 


THE  CRUSADER  137 

lusion  —  to  his  sorrow.  But  I  won't  spoil  your  tri 
umph  by  croaking  —  even  though,"  he  smiled  again, 
"  even  though  you  find  me  such  a  crook." 

He  passed  on  out  into  the  Square.     There  was  no 
cheer. 


CHAPTER  X 

CRITICISMS    AND    WILES 

SENATOR  MURCHELL  paused  for  an  instant  on 
the  court-house  steps,  surveying  the  garrulous, 
excited  groups  scattered  over  the  Square.  A  faint 
twinkle  came  into  his  eyes  as  he  perceived  the  hostile 
glances  cast  toward  him.  The  twinkle  was  kindlier 
than  one  might  have  expected.  People  said  that  he 
maintained  his  legal  residence  in  New  Chelsea  only 
because  an  unwritten  law  required  each  end  of  the 
state  to  be  represented  in  the  senate,  and  the  vacancy 
which  he  had  been  elected  to  fill  had  been  from  the 
western  district.  This  was  only  half  a  truth.  He 
really  liked  these  men  and  women  among  whom  his 
youth  had  been  spent,  who  looked  upon  him  half  fa 
miliarly,  half  in  awe,  and  who,  until  the  late  uprising 
and  the  advent  of  John  Dunmeade,  had  followed  un- 
questioningly  his  political  gospel.  Most  of  the  time 
he  spent,  from  the  exigencies  of  his  position,  in  Wash 
ington  or  in  the  big  house  in  Adelphia;  but  as  he 
grew  older  he  came  to  look  forward  more  and  more 
eagerly  to  the  summer  months  that  supported  his 
"  legal  residence."  That  his  neighbors  had  turned 
aside  after  other  gods  did  not  lessen  his  liking;  he 
tolerantly,  somewhat  cynically,  believed  that  they 
wrould  soon  return  to  their  old  faith. 

Another  mistake  which  diagnosticians  of  the  man 
138 


CRITICISMS  AND  WILES  139 

often  made  was  in  saying  that  he  dissembled  when  he 
showed  friendliness  to  his  opponents.  Politics  he  kept 
a  rigidly  impersonal  matter;  he  was  able  genuinely  to 
like  many  men  who  fought  him.  Dislikes  and  hates 
he  had  in  abundance,  but  they  did  not  arise  from  the 
bare  circumstance  of  opposition.  On  the  other  hand, 
he  never  confused  friendship  with  policy. 

He  looked,  hesitating,  toward  the  old  colonial  house 
across  the  street.  Then  he  started  toward  it.  Must 
the  habit  of  a  lifetime  be  broken  merely  because  a  son 
of  that  house  had  leveled  a  lance  against  him?  And, 
besides,  there  was  a  small  matter  of  business  to  trans 
act.  He  perceived  the  figure  of  an  old  woman  on  a 
bench  under  the  trees,  darning  industriously,  and  he 
smiled,  at  first  in  amusement.  Then  the  smile  became 
gentler.  After  all,  there  was  something  pathetic  in 
the  sight  of  an  old  lady  who  had  given  her  life  to 
"  doing  for  "  a  pompous,  opinionated  old  soldier  and 
a  stubborn  young  dreamer. 

She  looked  up  as  he  approached.  He  held  out  his 
hand.  "  Good  afternoon,  Miss  Roberta." 

"  Good  afternoon,  Will  Murchell."  She  continued 
her  darning.  "  I'll  not  shake  hands,"  she  answered 
his  gesture  calmly.  "  I  don't  think  I'll  ever  shake 
hands  with  you  again." 

"And  why?"  The  senator  always  enjoyed  their 
tilts. 

"  John  says  you're  a  dangerous  man.  John  is 
right."_ 

"  I  inferred  from  his  speech,"  he  answered  with  a 
twinkle,  "  that  he  held  some  such  opinion.  Were  you 
at  the  trial  ?  " 

"  I  was  not !     You  may  sit  down,"  she  commanded, 


140  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

making  room  for  him,"  because  I  want  to  ask  you  a 
question."  He  obeyed.  "  What  have  you  been  doing 
to  Hugh  and  our  John  ?  " 

"  You  think  I've  been  doing  something?  " 

"  Don't  evade !  Aren't  you  always  at  the  bottom  of 
some  mischief?  This  house  has  been  like  a  funeral 
ever  since  these  trials  began.  Hugh  has  been  as 
grumpy  as  —  as  a  dog  with  a  boil.  And  John  —  he 
doesn't  say  much,  but  he  feels  it.  It's  this  politics! 
I  wish,"  she  concluded  vengefully,  "  a  plague'd  carry 
off  all  you  politicians." 

"  But,  Roberta,  who'd  run  the  country  ?  " 

Miss  Roberta  sniffed.  "  I  guess  the  country  could 
run  itself  better  than  you  politicians  do." 

"  You  know  something  of  politicians,  then?  " 

"  Don't  take  that  amused  tone  with  me,  Will  Mur- 
chell!  I  know  more  than  you  think.  I've  watched 
you.  All  you  politicians  are  hard  and  cruel  and  self 
ish.  I  wonder  you  trust  each  other !  " 

"  We  don't ! "  he  laughed.  Then  he  became 
thoughtful.  "  H-m-m !  So  there's  coolness  between 
the  judge  and  John,  eh?  " 

"  Don't  you  know  it?  I  suppose,"  she  discontinued 
her  darning  long  enough  to  look  at  him  angrily,  "  I 
suppose  you're  wondering  how  you  can  turn  it  to  your 
advantage.  What  have  you  done  to  them  ?  " 

"  My  dear  Roberta,"  he  protested  humorously,  "  I 
decline  to  assume  responsibility  for  all  the  ills  in  the 
world.  I'm  willing  to  leave  something  to  the  Al 
mighty.  I  suppose  they've  fallen  out  over  the  trials. 
Naturally!  John  is  just  a  hot-headed  idealist,  while 
the  judge  is  —  a  practical  man." 

"  A  practical  man!  "  she  sniffed  tartly.     "If  you'd 


CRITICISMS  AND  WILES  141 

been  doing  for  the  judge  for  nearly  thirty  years,  you 
wouldn't  call  him  that,  I  guess.  Why,  he  even  be 
lieves  that  you're  going  to  put  him  in  the  supreme 
court." 

"And  you  don't?" 

"Of  course  not !  I  tell  him  so,  but  he  won't  be 
lieve  me.  He's  so  puffed  up  with  his  own  importance 
and  selfishness,  he  won't  listen  to  sense  and  tries  to 
make  his  son's  life  miserable.  But  I  guess,"  she 
added,  "  that's  what  you  mean  by  '  a  practical  man.' ' 

"  I  am  a  practical  man." 

"  You  are.  That's  been  your  trouble  all  your  life. 
And  by  that  you  mean  you've  let  nothing  —  honor, 
kindness  —  stand  between  you  and  what  you  want. 
Aren't  you  satisfied  yet?  Haven't  you  got  all  you 
want?" 

"  Why,  no,  Roberta,"  Murchell  answered.  "  I  hope 
not,"  he  added  slowly.  "  Once  a  man  has  all  he 
wants,  life  is  emptied  for  him." 

"  Then  you've  paid  for  more  than  you've  gotten." 

"  I  didn't  know  you  were  a  philosopher."  He 
looked  his  surprise.  He  paused,  then  asked  abruptly, 
"  Is  it  because  I'm  a  politician  you've  always  disliked 
me,  Roberta?  " 

She  looked  at  him  suspiciously.  Then,  seeing  that 
he  was  in  earnest,  she  answered,  "  Because  I  found 
you  out  long  ago.  You've  never  given  the  good  man 
Murchell  a  chance." 

"  I'm  glad  you  think  there  is  a  good  man  Mur 
chell." 

"  There  was  such  a  man.     He  starved  to  death." 

"  Roberta,"  he  smiled  wryly,  "  your  powers  of 
divination  are  truly  marvelous." 


142  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

He  stared  reflectively  out  over  the  sleepy,  quaint  old 
Square,  with  its  trees  and  flag-pole  and  out-of-date 
cannon  and  shabby  court-house:  peaceful  scene  of  the 
late  battle.  The  battle,  he  knew  as  others  did  not 
know,  had  been  but  an  opening  skirmish  in  the  greater 
campaign  that  was  in  many  quarters  being  prepared 
against  him.  ...  It  suddenly  struck  him  as  a 
jest  —  a  grim,  mirthless  jest  —  that  he,  an  old  man, 
should  still  be  fighting  for  his  power.  It  did  not 
strike  him  as  humorous  that  he,  the  great  politician, 
the  powerful  senator,  should  be  sitting  there  under  the 
chestnut  tree,  taking  a  scolding  from  an  old  woman 
whom  the  tide  of  life  had  tossed  aside  to  wither  on 
the  beach  of  this  tiny,  obscure  cove. 

"  Roberta,"  he  said  abruptly,  "  try  to  keep  John  out 
of  politics." 

"  Because  he  is  fighting  you?  " 

"  That,"  he  said  sententiously,  "  might  be  a  suffi 
cient  reason.  But  I'm  not  thinking  of  that.  It  isn't 
the  game  for  a  man  of  his  sort." 

"  You  didn't  think  of  that  when  you  believed  you 
could  use  him." 

She  sighed.  "  I  wish  I  could  keep  him  out.  But 
we  Dunmeades  are  set  in  our  opinions.  He'll  go  on 
fighting,  now  he's  started,  until  he  breaks  himself 
against  your  hardness  or  becomes  —  like  you." 

"  I  guess  you're  right.  You  Dunmeades  have  al 
ways  been  a  good  fighting  breed.  But  don't  you 
think,"  he  queried  mildly,  "  you  could  have  a  little 
charity  for  a  harassed  old  man  fighting  for  his  life?  " 

"  Old  man !  "  She  dismissed  with  another  sniff 
this  appeal  to  sympathy.  "  Old  man,  what  are  you 
going  to  do  to  John  ?  " 


CRITICISMS  AND  WILES  143 

"  A  more  pertinent  question,"  he  grunted,  "  just 
now  is,  what  is  John  going  to  do  to  me  ?  " 

He  got  up  abruptly  and  went  into  the  house.  In 
the  library  he  found  Judge  Dunmeade  before  his  desk, 
scratching  away  at  an  opinion.  With  that  heavy  dig 
nity  which  he  imparted  even  to  the  smallest  actions 
of  life  the  judge  waved  Murchell  to  a  seat.  Most 
people,  in  the  presence  of  this  dignity,  immediately  be 
came  conscious  of  their  inferiority.  It  did  not  so 
affect  the  present  guest.  The  judge's  pen  was  care 
fully  wiped  and  laid  down. 

"Well,  Judge?" 

"Well,  Senator?" 

"  That  son  of  yours  gave  us  something  of  a  sur 
prise  to-day." 

"  He  is  a  good  trial  lawyer,"  the  judge  answered 
colorlessly. 

"  Looks  as  though  Sheehan  would  have  to  go  over 
the  road.  Unless,"  Murchell  added  inquiringly, 
"  there's  a  chance  to  win  on  appeal  ?  " 

"  No.  John  tried  his  case  carefully.  There  were 
no  errors." 

"  At  least,  that  the  defense  can  take  advantage  of," 
Murchell  completed  the  sentence.  The  point,  how 
ever,  was  lost  on  the  judge.  "  Whittredge  agrees  with 
us  on  this.  Er  —  about  what  ought  to  be  the  sentence, 
do  you  think?  " 

It  would  not  be  correct  to  say  that  the  judge  as 
sumed  a  judicial  air;  that,  consciously,  he  always  wore. 
It  merely  became  heavier. 

"  It  is  a  matter  for  some  thought."  He  paused 
contemplatively.  "What  should  you  suggest?" 

Murchell  made  a  slight  motion  with  his  hand  to 


144  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

indicate  that  any  suggestion  from  him  was  a  negligible 
matter.  And  answered,  "  Would  four  months  be  too 
much?" 

"  H-m-m !  One  must  remember,  of  course,  that 
four  months  for  Sheehan  would  be  a  heavier  sentence 
than  a  year  for  another."  The  judge  cleared  his 
throat.  "  I'll  take  it  under  consideration." 

'  Yes,  some  men  like  the  penitentiary  better  than 
others  do,"  Murchell  agreed  soberly.  "  But  think  it 
over  —  think  it  over,  Hugh.  I  suspect  Sheehan  will 
chafe  against  being  lodged  at  the  public  expense.  Too 
bad,  I  suppose  John  would  suggest,  we  can't  devise 
some  penalty  that  would  break  the  monotony  of  his  ex 
istence,"  he  smiled. 

"  I  should  imagine,  however,  he  would  almost  pre 
fer  working  for  a  living  in  this  case."  The  judicial 
smile  was  impressive. 

"  O,  Sheehan  has  always  worked  hard.  All  poli 
ticians  do.  The  same  time  and  effort  spent  in  some 
other  lines  would  be  more  profitable.  The  emolu 
ments  of  politics  are  a  little  money  —  sometimes ;  a 
few  fair-weather  friends  and  many  enemies,  some  un 
pleasant  notoriety,  a  modicum  of  uncertain  power  — 
and  in  the  end  —  very  few  politicians  die  in  power, 
Hugh." 

The  judge  smiled  skeptically.  "  A  strange  saying 
on  your  lips,  William !  " 

The  senator  made  no  immediate  answer.  A  queer 
smile  softening  the  lines  of  his  mouth,  he  sat  staring 
at  the  portrait  of  Thomas  Dunmeade.  "  John,"  he 
said  at  last,  "  made  a  good  speech,  eh,  Judge  ?  " 

"  The  elocution  was  good,"  was  the  carefully  con 
sidered  answer. 


CRITICISMS  AND  WILES  145 

"  Don't  seem  very  proud  of  your  son." 

"  I  am  not  To  think  that  a  Dunmeade  should 
voice  such  rabid  radicalism,  such  wild  sentimentali 
ties!" 

"  No  one  will  blame  you  for  inspiring  it." 

"I  should  hope  not!"  the  judge  exclaimed  virtu 
ously.  "  After  more  than  sixty  years  of  respectable, 
conservative  living." 

There  was  a  trace  of  anxiety  in  his  next  words. 
"  John's  course  will  not  affect  the  matter  we  discussed 
last  winter,  will  it?" 

"  You  mean  the  justiceship?  Afraid  the  scriptural 
order  will  be  reversed  and  the  sins  of  the  sons  visited 
on  the  heads  of  the  fathers,  eh?  Have  you  consid 
ered  that  I  may  not  be  able  to  land  that  ?  My  —  influ 
ence  —  in  the  organization  is  a  little  uncertain  just  at 
present.  These  trials  haven't  helped,  either." 

"  I  have  that  also  against  my  son,"  the  judge  said 
angrily.  "  He  has  made  it  more  difficult  for  his  father 
to  realize  a  lifelong  ambition.  Besides,"  he  added, 
"  attacking  my  best  friend." 

"Yes,"  Murchell  assented.  "Don't  forget  that. 
Didn't  tell  John  of  your  ambition,  did  you?  " 

"  Not  that  it  has  been  definitely  discussed.  But  he 
knows  that  I  have  always  looked  forward  to  ending 
my  work  on  the  supreme  bench  of  the  state.  But  it 
would  have  made  no  difference,"  he  said  bitterly. 
"  He  has  no  filial  affection,  it  seems,  no  sense  of  grati 
tude  for  the  advantages  I  have  given  him.  He  is  too 
selfish  and  set  in  his  opinions  to  consider  his  father's 
interest.  He  doesn't  get  it  from  me.  He  is,"  the 
judge  concluded,  "  his  mother's  son." 

The  senator  did  not  smile.     "  His  mother's  son !  " 


"146  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

He  was  not  a  sentimental  man.  He  did  not  read 
novels  or  poetry  and  he  did  not  believe  that  love  could 
reach  from  young  manhood  to  age,  especially  when 
the  loved  one  had  been  long  dead.  Reasoning  from 
his  own  experience,  he  was  correct.  He  did  not  "  love 
the  memory "  of  Anne  Dunmeade  nor  indulge  in 
sweetly  sad  retrospection.  He  thought  of  her  now 
merely  as  marking  one  stage  of  his  develop 
ment.  He  remembered  her  as  a  gentle  yet  high- 
spirited  thing  full  of  ardent  enthusiasms  and  with 
an  unshakable  belief  —  it  struck  him  now  as  al 
most  pathetic  —  in  the  goodness  of  her  fellows 
and  the  ultimate  triumph  of  "  the  right."  There 
must  have  been,  he  thought,  unsuspected  possibilities 
—  possibilities  that  had  not  been  realized  —  in  him, 
since  he  could  love  this  woman.  He  was  far  from 
ready  to  admit  that  their  realization  would  have  been 
profitable. 

He  looked  again  at  the  portrait  of  the  founder  of 
New  Chelsea,  whose  hard,  arrogant  face  the  forgotten 
artist  had  not  tried  to  soften.  Then  he  looked  at  the 
likeness  of  Robert;  one  had  to  look  more  closely  here 
to  discern  in  the  smooth,  priestlike  countenance  the 
crafty  insincerity  that  could  embrace  and  profit  by  a 
great  moral  propaganda  —  when  triumph  was  in  sight. 
Then  he  turned  to  the  present  head  of  the  house  of 
Dunmeade,  the  cold  presentment  of  complacent  re 
spectability. 

"  His  mother's  son !  I  guess  that  explains  him." 
He  rose.  "  About  that  justiceship  —  I'll  see  what  can 
be  done.  But  I  promise  nothing  definitely  so  far 
ahead.  You  understand  that  ?" 

"  Certainly,"   the  judge  assented.     "  But  I  expect 


CRITICISMS  AND  WILES  147 

you  to  do  your  best.  I  feel,"  he  added  with  dignity, 
"  that  my  services  to  my  country  and  to  my  party  war 
rant  my  expectation.  And  I  ought  to  draw  the  old 
soldier  vote  to  the  ticket." 

"  And,  Judge,"  Murchell  concluded,  "  think  over 
the  Sheehan  sentence  —  think  it  over."  He  went  out 
of  the  room. 

He  was  decidedly  relieved  to  find  Miss  Roberta 
gone  from  her  bench  under  the  chestnut  tree. 

On  the  next  Saturday  morning  James  Sheehan, 
found  guilty  of  conspiracy  to  falsify  election  returns, 
was  summoned  to  bar  and  sentenced  to  four  months' 
"  hard  labor  "  in  the  county  workhouse.  But  before 
the  appeal  which  he  took  had  been  refused  by  the 
higher  court,  he  had  left  Benton  County  for  parts  un 
known. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE    PICKET 

JOHN  sought  refuge  in  the  cubbyhole  that  Benton 
County  provides  for  its  district  attorneys.  With 
a  sense  of  relief  he  filed  away  his  notes  on  the  Shee- 
han  case  in  a  cabinet  marked  "  Finished  Business." 
Then  he  threw  himself  into  a  chair  and  began  to  take 
stock.  .  .  . 

Sheehan's  eyes  haunted  him.  John  was  a  normal 
young  man  and  he  was  capable  of  knowing  the 
joy  of  a  task  well  done.  But  not  this  sort  of 
task!  He  could  find  no  elation  in  a  triumph  won  at 
the  cost  of  direct  personal  misery  to  others.  There 
was  Slayton,  for  example :  a  handsome,  pleasant  young 
man  who  looked  the  criminal  not  at  all.  He  had  not 
had  the  courage  to  stand  trial  and  he  had  broken  bail 
and  fled,  leaving  behind  a  sick  wife.  She  and  the 
child  born  since  the  father's  flight  now  lay  together 
in  a  grave.  Slayton  had  not  dared  to  return;  per 
haps  he  did  not  even  know  of  the  double  tragedy.  In 
his  dreams  John  often  saw  Slayton's  hunted  face  as  it 
must  now  appear.  Thus  early  in  his  career  John  was 
learning  the  lesson  that  he  who  sets  out  to  reform  the 
world  must  keep  his  heart  stern  within  him.  But  he 
was  glad  to  believe  that  the  next  stage  would  be  less 
sanguinary. 

The  next  stage !  During  the  trials  —  a  time  too  full 
148 


THE  PICKET  149 

of  action  for  investigation  of  the  future  —  they  had 
seemed  the  beginning  and  the  end  of  his  task.  Now 
the  task  was  done.  So  many  rascals  were  suffering 
or  soon  would  be  sent  into  imprisonment.  A  ma 
chine  —  no,  one  comparatively  unimportant  part  of  a 
machine  —  was  badly  shaken.  What  then?  Of  what 
use  this  punishment  and  destruction  unless  some  one 
provided  something  better  in  its  stead  ?  Some  one — ! 

He  became  conscious  that  his  head  was  aching,  that 
he  was  tired  all  over,  every  nerve  in  his  body  throb 
bing.  For  more  than  six  months,  ever  since  his  elec 
tion,  he  had  been  working  incessantly,  feverishly  to 
ward  this  day.  The  release  from  strain  allowed  his 
maltreated,  protesting  body  to  be  heard.  He  got  up 
and  left  the  office,  as  though  fleeing  from  the  prob 
lem. 

He  laid  a  roundabout  course  away  from  Main 
Street,  out  into  the  country.  He  tramped  de 
terminedly  along  the  pike,  rilling  his  lungs  with  the 
tonic  air.  It  had  been  a  good  "  growing  season." 
His  way  took  him  between  fields  of  clean  young  corn 
and  barley  and  oats  and  occasional  cool,  green  wood- 
lots.  The  face  of  the  land  was  instinct  with  life  — 
riotous,  superabundant,  thrilling  life.  He  shut  the 
gates  of  his  mind  on  all  serious  questions  and  let  him 
self  bathe  in  the  beauty  around  him.  .  . 

A  farmer,  driving  a  pair  of  heavy  farm  horses 
doing  duty  at  the  tongue  of  a  squeaky  spring-wagon, 
rattled  up  behind  him. 

"Howdy,  Johnny!     Want  a  lift?" 

"  Howdy,  'Ri !  No,  thank  you.  Just  taking  a  little 
exercise  and  soaking  in  all  this." 

Cranshawe  reined  in  his  team.     John  stopped. 


150  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

"  The  country  ?  'Tis  kind  o'  purty,  ain't  it,  come 
to  think  of  it!  Though  I  guess,  if  ye  had  to  grub 
away  in  it,  year  in  an'  year  out,  fer  a  livin',  ye 
wouldn't  see  it  so  quick.  When  I'm  huntin'  excite 
ment,  I  go  to  see  some  young  feller  kickin'  up  his 
heels  at  the  machine.  Little  mite  too  smart  fer  'em 
to-day,  weren't  ye  ?  " 

"  They  had  been  so  bold,  they  made  it  easier." 

Cranshawe  nodded.  "  Be  smarter  next  time,  I 
reckon — 'f  we  give  'em  a  chanct.  'F  we  give  'em  a 
chanct,"  he  repeated  reflectively.  "  Us  farmers,  we're 
feelin'  purty  good  about  these  trials.  Feel  like  we 
didn't  make  any  mistake  last  fall.  I've  b'en  talkin' 
to  a  good  many  of  'em  lately.  We  b'lieve  we  got 
somebody  to  tie  to.  We  ain't  had  anybody  like  that 
hereabouts  since  the  war."  Cranshawe  smiled  kindly 
down  on  John. 

"  Murchell  says  they'll  forget,"  John  smiled  back. 

"  Be'n  at  ye  a'ready,  has  he?"  Cranshawe  asked 
shrewdly.  "  He'll  be  at  ye  harder,  before  ye're 
through.  Ye  got  'em  scared.  Mebby  we'll  fergit  an' 
then  mebby  we  won't.  But  I  guess  that's  our  look 
out,  not  yours.  So  fur's  ye're  concerned,  all  ye  got 
to  do  is  go  ahead  an'  try  to  finish  up  the  job  ye've 
started.  'F  we  don't  do  our  part,  I  guess  we  won't 
have  nobody  to  blame  but  ourselves." 

"  The  question  is,  am  I  big  enough  for  the  job?  " 

"  No,  that  ain't  the  question,"  Cranshawe  contra 
dicted  quickly.  "  Because  that  can't  be  answered,  till 
ye've  tried.  The  question  is,  are  ye  goin'  to  be  scared 
out  by  a  job  because  it's  big,  or  are  ye  goin'  to  keep 
up  what  ye've  started?  'F  ye  don't,  there  ain't  any- 


THE  PICKET  151 

body  else  to  do  it.  An'  we'll  soon  be  back  where  we 
started." 

John  did  not  reply.  He  looked  thoughtfully  over 
the  oat-field  beside  them,  which  was  waving  and  toss 
ing  in  the  breeze  like  a  green  lake  ruffled  by  the  storm. 
Cranshawe  looked  at  the  troubled  face,  shrewdly  es 
timating  what  lay  behind  it. 

"  That's  the  way  things  was  meant  to  be,  I  expect  — 
every  feller  'tend  to  his  own  part  an'  do  the  thing  that 
comes  next.  'F  he  does  the  best  he  can,  I  guess  we 
can't  ask  any  more." 

John  nodded  slowly.  Cranshawe  did  not  pursue 
the  point. 

"  I  see  Steve  Hampden's  back,"  he  remarked  casu 
ally.  "  That  girl  o'  his  was  at  the  trial.  Came  in 
late  an'  had  to  stand  by  the  door  where  I  was  standin'. 
She  was  with  some  young  city  feller.  Seen  her  at 
the  rally  last  fall,  too.  She  seems,"  he  grinned  quiz 
zically,  "  to  take  consider'ble  intrust  in  ye." 

John  became  aware  of  a  slight  disturbance  in  the 
cardiac  region,  but  with  an  effort  he  achieved  an  an 
swering  grin.  "  It  isn't  to  be  taken  very  seriously, 
though." 

"  I  expect  not,"  'Ri  agreed,  still  grinning.  "  Well, 
since  I  can't  spell  ye,  I'll  be  movin'.  Comin'  out 
hayin'  time?  We'll  give  ye  plenty  of  exercise,  if 
that's  what  ye're  needin'.  So  long! "  He  clucked  to 
the  horses  and  the  wagon  resumed  its  leisurely,  squeak 
ing  journey.  He  clucked  again  and  the  team  broke 
into  a  heavy  trot.  Soon  he  was  out  of  sight  around 
a  turn  in  the  road. 

John  swung  rapidly  along  for  an  hour,  until  the 


152  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

sweat  oozed  from  every  pore  of  his  body.  Then  he 
threw  himself  tinder  a  tree  by  the  roadside.  The 
breeze,  filtered  clean  through  fifty  leagues  of  cedar 
and  pine,  fanned  his  hot,  damp  face  and  filled  his 
lungs.  Already  his  nerves,  steadied  and  rested  by 
play  of  muscle,  were  resuming  their  wonted  healthy 
tone. 

He  pondered  his  problem.  Yet  he  knew  that  it  was 
answered,  not  by  'Ri  Cranshawe's  homely  wisdom, 
but  by  the  inscrutable  purpose  of  the  Force  which  had 
impelled  him  into  the  fight.  He  could  not  withdraw 
from  the  task  to  which  he  had  been  set.  Whither? 
was  a  question  that  he  needed  not  to  answer,  so  long 
as  a  straight  piece  of  road  lay  ahead.  .  .  .  There 
was  less  of  the  crusader's  fire  than  when,  in  the  Oc 
tober  moonlight,  he  had  taken  his  first  resolve.  He 
knew  more  of  the  complexity  of  the  task,  of  the 
strength  required  of  him  who  would  perform  it,  of 
the  insidious,  far-reaching  power  exercised  by  Mur- 
chell.  Being  young,  his  knowledge  still  incomplete, 
he  thought  in  terms  of  persons,  not  of  systems.  He 
thought  sadly  of  his  father's  displeasure.  .  .  . 
And  he  thought  of  Katherine,  whom,  it  appeared,  the 
winter  had  not  taught  to  forget  him.  He  had  not 
learned  to  forget.  Work  could  dull,  it  could  not 
wholly  stifle,  the  longing  for  her.  And  yet  he  had 
not  been  unhappy.  .  .  .  He  knew  that  he  could 
not  say  no  to  that  which  was  calling  him  into  service. 

He  walked  home  through  the  calm  of  sundown. 
Once  he  halted,  listening  intently.  The  leaves  on  the 
trees  hung  motionless,  but  from  the  earth  came  a 
faint,  indistinct  murmur  —  the  voice  of  the  growing 
things.  While  the  petty  creature  man  scrambled  and 


THE  PICKET  153 

battled  for  what  she  brought  forth,  Nature  worked  on 
serene,  immutable,  producing  —  the  eternal  Force. 
He  thrilled,  as  though  he  heard  a  prophecy. 

This  time  he  did  not  avoid  Main  Street.  At  the 
corner  where  stands  the  Farmers'  Bank  he  met  War 
ren  Blake  and  a  companion.  Warren  stopped  him  to 
introduce  the  stranger,  Haig,  a  lanky,  cadaverous  in 
dividual  who,  as  the  introduction  developed,  was  the 
author  of  a  much  criticized  novel,  The  Brethren. 

John  acknowledged  his  hearty  greeting.  "  I  have 
read  your  book,  Mr.  Haig  —  with  interest,"  he  said 
politely  but  cautiously. 

Haig  grinned  genially.  "  Great  Scott !  You  don't 
think  I  expect  you  to  say  you  like  it,  do  you?  No 
body  likes  it.  What  would  be  the  use  of  writing  a 
novel,  if  people  liked  it?" 

"  I  don't  know,  I'm  sure  —  so  long  as  people  buy 
it,"  John  ventured,  liking  the  man. 

"  Precisely !  "  Haig  drawled.  "  I  heard  you  twist 
ing  Murchell's  tail  this  afternoon.  If  you  don't  mind, 
I'd  like  to  congratulate  you  —  on  your  nerve.  I've 
been  wondering  whether  you  are  merely  a  brave  man 
or  a  specimen  of  that  splendid  genus,  the  fool.  Brother 
Blake  inclines  to  the  latter  notion." 

"  Yes,  Warren  would,"  John  smiled. 

"  I  do,"  said  Warren  solemnly.  "  I  don't  believe  in 
agitation.  It  hurts  business  —  and  the  agitator." 

"  Warren,"  John  laughed,  "  will  undoubtedly  be 
come  a  pillar  of  the  state  —  he  has  no  sense  of  hu 
mor." 

"  No,  I'm  not  a  joker,"  Warren  answered.  "  And 
you'll  find  it  no  joke  to  attack  the  Republican  party  as 
you  did  to-day.  You  might  as  well  turn  Democrat." 


154  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

"  Or  a  mugwump  ?  Which  is  even  worse.  In  New 
Chelsea,  Mr.  Haig,  we  daily  offer  thanks  for  prosperity, 
good  weather  and  the  Republican  party.  We're  a  re 
ligious  community.  Our  only  doubt  is  whether  Provi 
dence  is  Republican  or  the  Republican  party  Provi 
dence." 

"  You  oughtn't  to  be  irreverent,"  Warren  reproved. 
"  They  voted  for  you." 

"  I'm  in  some  doubt,"  John  mused,  "  at  what  my 
irreverence  is  supposed  to  be  aimed." 

"  Neither  the  works  of  Providence  nor  the  Repub 
lican  party  is  matter  for  levity,  I  suppose."  Haig's 
ready  grin  broadened,  as  he  placed  a  hand  on  War 
ren's  shoulder.  "  Here,  Mr.  Dunmeade,  but  for  the 
grace  of  God,  stand  I.  My  people  wanted  to  make 
me  a  banker."  Warren  merely  blinked  good-naturedly 
at  the  familiarity. 

"  A  dollar,  Mr.  Haig,"  John  put  in,  "  held  close 
enough  to  the  eye,  will  hide  the  rest  of  creation." 

Haig  chuckled.  "  Now  that's  good.  That's  very 
good.  Wish  I  could  have  thought  of  it.  Do  you 
subscribe,  Brother  Blake  ?  " 

"  I  do,"  said  Warren  unexpectedly.  "  What  do 
you  do  with  your  royalties  ?  " 

The  chuckle  became  a  roar.  "  Do  you  get  that,  Mr. 
Dunmeade  ?  Right  where  I  live !  " 

"  Good  for  New  Chelsea's  pride ! "  John  laughed. 
"  As  we  put  it  in  New  Chelsea,  are  you  leaving  soon, 
Mr.  Haig?" 

rt  Lord !  no.  I'm  here  for  my  health.  Doctor  told 
me  I'd  been  working  too  hard  or  not  hard  enough  — 
I  forget  which  —  and  that  I  needed  fresh  air  for  my 


THE  PICKET  155 

liver.  So  I  trailed  up  here  after  the  Hampdens  — 
where,  by  the  way,  Brother  Blake  and  I  are  dining 
this  evening." 

"  Yes,  and  we'd  better  start,"  Warren  suggested 
patiently. 

"  Ah !  these  fiery  lovers !  Come  around  and  see  me, 
Mr.  Dunmeade.  That  damn  doctor  has  interdicted 
tobacco,  but  I've  brought  along  a  brand  I  can  recom 
mend." 

John  promised  to  come  around,  and  they  parted. 

He  reached  home  to  be  soundly  scolded  by  Miss 
Roberta  for  his  tardiness  at  supper.  None  the  less 
faithfully,  however,  did  she  minister  to  the  needs  of 
his  physical  man,  when  he  had  returned  from  his  tub 
bing,  clad  in  fresh,  cool-looking  flannels.  Miss 
Roberta,  who  would  not  have  admitted  it  to  him,  took 
a  secret  pride  in  his  attractiveness;  she  probably  ex 
aggerated  it. 

After  supper  he  strolled  into  the  library.  He  was 
feeling  rather  at  a  loss  in  his  idleness ;  not  for  months 
had  he  had  an  evening  free  from  work.  And  he  was  a 
bit  lonesome;  he  could  not  help  thinking  of  the  two 
young  men  dining  at  the  Hampdens.  The  judge  was 
reading  by  the  desk,  the  light  from  the  lamp  throwing 
his  cold,  heavy  features  into  sharp  relief.  He  looked 
up  inhospitably,  as  John  entered. 

"Busy,  Judge?"  John  generally  called  him 
"  Judge,"  feeling  not  without  reason  that  his  father 
took  more  pride  in  his  office  than  in  his  paternity.  Of 
late  he  had  had  especial  reason  for  this  belief. 

"  Not  too  busy  —  if  you  have  anything  of  impor 
tance  to  discuss." 


156  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

"  O,  no.  Just  dropped  in  for  a  little  gossip.  I 
won't  disturb  you."  John  turned  to  leave  the  room, 
but  his  departure  was  arrested  by  the  judge's  reply. 

"  I  suppose  you  expect  me  to  pat  you  on  the  back 
because  you've  sent  another  man  on  the  road  to 
prison?"  One  might  have  called  his  expression  a 
sneer,  had  the  word  been  compatible  with  the  judicial 
dignity. 

"  Is  this  a  congratulation,  Judge  ?  " 

"  It  is  not.  I  do  not  regard  your  course  as  matter 
for  congratulation." 

"  I  have  felt  that  you  weren't  in  full  sympathy  with 
it." 

"  I  am  not."  The  judge  laid  his  book  on  the  desk 
and  sat  stiffly  erect.  John  was  immediately  enabled 
to  sympathize  with  those  unfortunates  who  were  ar 
raigned  before  his  father.  "  Now  that  the  case  is 
ended,  I  may  speak  frankly.  As  a  judge  I,  of  course, 
approve  of  the  punishment  of  crime.  But  I  don't  ap 
prove  your  going  out  of  your  way  to  attack  Senator 
Murchell,  a  fine,  clean-living  gentleman  who  has  al 
ways  showed  the  warmest  friendship  for  your  family." 
Judge  Dunmeade  spoke  with  restrained  emphasis. 

"  And  has  created  a  pernicious  machine,"  John 
added  incautiously. 

"  Which  elected  you  to  the  office  you  now  hold." 

"  Your  memory  isn't  good,  Judge.  The  machine 
nominated  me.  The  people  of  Benton  County  elected 
me,  you  may  remember." 

"  You  couldn't  have  been  nominated  without  Mur- 
chell's  endorsement." 

"  That,  I'm  sorry  to  say,  is  probably  true,"  John 
said,  wishing  that  he  had  not  ventured  into  the  room. 


THE  PICKET  157 

"  You  admit  it?  You  show  a  strange  sense  of  grat 
itude  for  favors  received !  I  have  been  deeply  hurt  by 
your  recent  attitude.  I  can  understand  a  Dunmeade 
being  ambitious  and  trying  to  attain  his  ambition  by 
regular,  faithful  service  to  his  party.  I  can't  under 
stand  one  of  us  seeking  notoriety  through  the  sensa 
tional  methods  of  the  political  agitator." 

John  flushed  resentfully.  Then  the  resentment  died 
down.  Already  he  had  learned  enough  to  know  that 
this,  the  climax  of  six  months'  coldness,  was  but  a  bit 
ter  foretaste  of  the  bitterer  misunderstanding  with 
which  a  slothful  world  pays  its  trail-makers. 

"  I  hope,  father,"  he  said,  with  almost  boyish  wist- 
fulness,  "  you  don't  think  that  of  me.  It  seems  we 
can't  get  the  same  point  of  view.  But  I'd  like  you  to 
believe  in  my  good  faith." 

A  soft  answer  does  not  always  turn  away  wrath. 
"What  can  you  expect?  Your  methods  are  those  of 
the  unsuccessful  —  without  the  excuse  of  having  been 
repudiated  by  your  party  — " 

"  But  I  was  repudiated  by  part  of  it." 

"  Only  after  you  had  publicly  disowned  it !  You 
have  tried  to  stir  up  a  baseless  prejudice  against  a  man 
who  is  respected  and  considered  throughout  the  nation. 
You  have  aimed  a  blow  at  your  party." 

"  But,  after  all,  I'm  an  official  of  Benton  County, 
not  of  the  Republican  party,"  John  demurred.  "  You 
can  see  that." 

"Of  course!  But  you  don't  serve  the  people  when 
you  deliberately  set  out  to  injure  the  party  that  has 
given  this  nation  a  prosperity  unprecedented  " —  the 
judge's  arm  swept  out  in  a  magnificent  gesture  — 
"  unparalleled  in  history." 


158  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

John  turned  away  to  hide  a  smile,  not  a  very  happy 
smile.  "  I  don't  want  to  injure  the  party,  if  by  party 
you  mean  the  great  body  of  men  who  compose  it." 

"  You  injure  the  party,  sir,"  his  father  exclaimed 
hotly,  "  when  you  try  to  create  prejudice  against  the 
leaders  whose  genius  and  character  have  made  it  the 
powerful  agency  it  is.  And  you  will  find  that  both 
they  and  the  party  will  outlive  your  attacks,  sir." 

"  I  see  no  reason  to  doubt  that." 

"  Then  I  suppose  you  will  be  content,  now  that  Shee- 
han  is  convicted?  " 

John  paused  thoughtfully.  "  I  have  to  be  honest 
with  you.  I  am  not  content,"  he  said  slowly.  "  I 
shall  not  be  content  until  I  have  done  my  best  to  de 
stroy  boss  rule  in  this  state  —  at  least,  in  this  county." 

"  That's  a  school-boy  sentiment,  its  implication  as 
ungrounded  as  school-boy  generalities  mostly  are." 

John  pointed  to  a  saber  hanging  over  the  mantel. 
"  Judge,  you  were  a  soldier  —  a  very  fine  one,  I'm 
told.  You  risked  life  and  health  for  a  cause.  Senti 
ment,  wasn't  it,  Judge?" 

"  No,  sir !  Duty  to  a  principle.  A  fundamental 
principle  was  at  stake.  It  was  the  duty  of  all  re 
spectable  men  to  defend  it." 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  a  fundamental  principle  is  in 
volved  here." 

"No  such  thing!"  Judge  Dunmeade  exclaimed 
angrily.  "No  such  thing!  You  can't  judge  a  sys 
tem  by  its  incidental  errors,  but  by  its  large  results. 
The  strong  must  always  lead,  and  they  will  go  to  the 
front  by  the  shortest  path.  The  fittest  will  survive." 

"  That  question,  who  is  fit  ?  has  caused  a  good  deal 
of  trouble  in  the  world,  hasn't  it?"  John  slowly 


THE  PICKET  159 

walked  the  length  of  the  room.  He  did  not  wish  to 
quarrel  with  his  father,  and  he  realized  the  futility  of 
argument ;  they  had  no  common  ground  on  which  they 
could  meet,  he  remembered  that  they  had  never  had 
much  in  common.  And  the  judge's  prejudice  was  not 
unique.  There  were  many  men  —  good  men,  too  — 
to  whom  party  loyalty  was  nothing  short  of  a  religion; 
and  for  "  party  "  they  accepted  Sheehan's  definition. 

He  went  back  to  his  father.  "  We  don't  need  to 
quarrel  over  it,  do  we?  After  all,  we're  father  and 
son.  I  —  I  ask  you  to  remember  that  it  would  be 
easier  all  round  for  me  to  go  along  with  the  old 
order." 

But  the  judge  was  not  to  be  mollified.  "  Old  order ! 
Think  you  know  more  than  your  old,  behind-the-times 
father,  do  you?  Think  one  blast  of  your  school-boy: 
eloquence  will  create  a  new  system,  do  you?  You 
have  a  poor  way  of  showing  affection.  Your  attitude 
is  a  personal  affront  to  me,  a  criticism  of  my  honor 
and  intelligence.  I  am  not  one  of  those  who  consider 
themselves  better  than  their  party.  I'm  proud  to  say 
I  belong  to  the  old  order  —  as  you  call  it.  Good 
night !  "  he  concluded  shortly. 

"  I'm  sorry  you  feel  so  about  it.  Good  night  — 
father." 

Judge  Dunmeade  resumed  his  book. 

Now  the  judicial  temperament  is  not  given  to  im 
pulse.  But,  as  John  went  slowly  out  of  the  room 
Judge  Dunmeade  experienced  a  novel  sensation  which 
in  the  brief  moment  allowed  for  reflection  he  was  at 
loss  to  define.  Later  he  decided  that  it  was  his  gen 
erous  nature  asserting  itself  to  give  his  son  another 
chance.  He  may  have  been  mistaken. 


i6o  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

Be  that  as  it  may,  before  John  had  passed  quite  out 
of  the  room  he  was  recalled  by  an  unexpected 
"  Wait !  "  The  tone,  it  is  true,  was  not  precisely  pro 
pitiatory. 

He  returned.     "Yes,  father?" 

"  I  suppose,"  said  the  judge  gruffly,  "  your  father's 
interest  can  have  no  weight  with  you.  It  ought  to  be 
clear  to  you  without  suggestion  from  me  that  if  you 
persist  in  attacking  Senator  Murchell  you  make  my 
lifelong  ambition  impossible." 

"  Are  you  still  taking  that  seriously  ?  The  senator 
has  been  teasing  you  along  with  the  promise  of  a  jus 
ticeship  for  ten  years.  Don't  you  know  by  this  time 
that  he  has  no  intention  of  giving  it  to  you?  " 

"  He  gave  you  a  nomination." 

"  Yes,  he  Happened  to  believe  he  could  make  use  of 
me." 

"  But  your  old-fashioned  father,  with  nothing  but 
his  four  years'  service  in  the  nation's  battles  and 
twenty  years  on  the  bench,  has  no  value.  Is  that  it?  " 

"  It  isn't  a  question  of  merit  or  talent.  If  it  were 
that,  I  should  say,"  John  replied  gently,  his  conscience 
generously  keeping  silence,  "  I  should  say  you  have 
the  right  to  ask  big  things.  But  it  seems  to  be  solely 
a  question  of  the  senator's  political  necessities.  I  — 
I  doubt  that  he  needs  you,  father." 

"  That  means,  I  presume,"  the  judge  said  bitterly, 
"  that  I  count  for  nothing  against  your  notions  ?  But 
I  might  have  known  it !  " 

"  I  have  already  paid  something  for  the  privilege  of 
having  '  notions.'  I  shall  probably  have  to  pay  more. 
But  we  haven't  the  right  to  consider  one  man  against 
a  principle — " 


THE  PICKET  161 

But  the  judge  had  done  all  that  a  generous  nature 
could  ask. 

"  You  needn't  explain.  Your  refusal  to  consider 
your  father  speaks  for  itself.  Good  night !  "  he  re 
peated. 

And  John,  smiling  helplessly,  left  the  judge.  The 
latter  consumed  many  minutes  pondering  the  perti 
nence  of  a  certain  proverb  in  which  a  serpent's  tooth 
and  an  ungrateful  child  are  compared. 

Out  in  the  clear  night  John  walked  slowly  about. 
More  than  ever  he  realized  the  price  which  they  must 
pay  who  would  be  Voices.  His  sense  of  loneliness 
deepened:  the  loneliness  of  the  picket  standing  guard 
under  the  stars. 


CHAPTER  XII 

APPLES    OF    EDEN 

IF  the  summer  before  had  been  gay,  what  shall  we 
say  of  that  which  now  opened?  The  center  of 
gaiety  was  East  Ridge.  The  Italian  villa  was  the 
scene  of  one  continuous  house  party.  Certain  gilded 
families  from  the  Steel  City,  advance  guard  of  the 
colony  that  was  to  come,  "  camped  out "  experi 
mentally  in  hastily  remodeled  farm-houses  pending 
the  erection  of  the  proposed  "  cottages."  Thither  ar 
riving  summer  residents  immediately  began  to  cast 
longing  glances ;  but  the  Ridge,  sad  to  relate,  thought 
itself  sufficient  unto  itself.  A  whole  volume  might  be 
filled  with  the  serio-comic  adventures  of  the  family 
of  Bates,  tin-plate  manufacturer  from  Castleton — 
twenty  miles  south  —  who  bought  and  moved  into  a 
Ridge  farm-house  in  the  innocent  belief  that  neigh 
bors  were  always  neighborly;  late  in  the  summer  he 
sold  his  farm  at  a  loss  to  Hampden. 

It  was  inevitable  that  John  and  Katherine  should 
meet.  It  happened  one  morning  a  few  days  after  the 
Sheehan  trial  when  John  was  leaving  the  post-office 
with  his  daily  mail.  A  trap  drew  up  in  which  sat 
Katherine  and  a  young  man.  There  was  no  trace  of 
self -consciousness  as  she  cordially  greeted  John  and 
introduced  her  companion.  John  remembered  a  say 
ing  of  hers  concerning  one  whom  "people  were  apt 

162 


APPLES  OF  EDEN  163 

to  sneer  at  as  a  speculator,"  but  whom  she  thought 
"  splendid  because  he  had  had  the  brains  and  courage 
to  make  his  own  fight  and  win."  He  had  no  difficulty 
in  identifying  that  man  with  Gregg,  of  whom  he  had 
heard  more  than  once.  Gregg  was  an  attractive  fel 
low,  a  few  years  older  than  John,  of  athletic  build 
and  pleasant  manner.  He  looked  the  pirate  of  the 
stock  exchange  even  less  than  did  Hampden;  if  the 
dollar  madness  had  gripped  his  soul  it  had  as  yet  set 
no  mark  on  his  frank,  nicely-browned  countenance. 
He  joined  Katharine  in  congratulating  John  on  his 
recently  acquired  fame;  they  insisted  on  "fame." 
She  laughingly  chided  him  on  his  failure  to  run  down 
to  the  Steel  City  to  see  her  during  the  winter. 

"  But  you  must  make  up  for  it,  now  we're  here. 
We  expect  to  see  you  often  on  the  Ridge.  There  will 
be  tennis.  He  will  make  you  play,"  she  said  to  Gregg, 
who  responded  pleasantly. 

"  I'd  like  to  have  the  chance,  Mr.  Dunmeade.  I've 
been  hearing  about  your  game." 

John  murmured  a  promise  to  put  in  an  appearance 
in  the  indefinitely  near  future  and  broke  away,  mop 
ping  his  brow  and  wondering  at  the  perverse  fate  that 
made  people,  whose  ideals  were  so  far  from  his,  so 
attractive  to  him. 

But,  although  Gregg  spent  nearly  every  week-end 
on  the  Ridge,  John  did  not  keep  his  promise.  Indeed, 
he  had  little  time  for  recreation ;  and  that  little  was 
put  in  with  Haig,  with  whom  he  was  rapidly  cementing 
a  friendship.  The  June  primaries  were  at  hand. 
John  felt  less  pride  than  responsibility  when  he  found 
that  he  was  expected  to  lead  the  campaign  to  capture 
the  county  nominations  from  the  machine  and  that, 


164  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

by  tacit  consent  of  friends  and  enemies  alike,  upon 
him  devolved  the  task  of  choosing  the  reform  ticket. 
He  gave  much  thought  to  this  task.  It  was  not  sim 
ple.  There  were  many  unworthy  gentlemen,  he  dis 
covered,  willing  to  be  swept  into  office  by  the  wave  of 
popular  protest.  And  he  could  have  learned  here,  had 
he  been  so  minded,  that  even  a  reformer  must  em 
ploy  the  wisdom  of  the  serpent.  He  achieved  results 
at  which  a  politician  might  have  sneered  but  that  were 
on  the  whole  very  promising  in  the  light  of  his  inex 
perience. 

One  day  he  summoned  Jeremy  Applegate  to  his  of 
fice. 

i(  Jeremy,  you're  the  recorder's  chief  clerk." 

"  Yes,"  answered  Jeremy  anxiously,  wondering 
what  blunder  had  been  unearthed. 

"  Know  how  the  office  ought  to  run  ?  " 

"  I  guess  so." 

"  Do  you  think  you  could  run  it  yourself?  " 

"  I  been  runnin'  it  for  twenty  years,  what  runnin' 
it's  had.  Tain't  much." 

"  Jeremy,  how  would  you  like  to  run  for  the  nom 
ination  ?  " 

"Me  —  recorder?"  Jeremy  stared  at  John  in 
amazement.  His  withered  old  face  turned  red,  then 
pale.  His  stooping  shoulders  became  suddenly 
straight  and  stiff. 

"  Yes.     How  would  you  like  it  ?  " 

Jeremy's  pride  died  as  suddenly  as  it  had  been  born. 
"  I  —  I'm  afraid,"  he  muttered. 

"  But  we're  going  to  win." 

"  I  think  you're  goin'  to  win.     But  I  —  I've  seen 


APPLES  OF  EDEN  165 

'em  pull  through  so  often.  S'pose  you  lose.  I'd  be 
done  for.  They'd  throw  me  out." 

"  Can't  you  chance  it?  "  John  urged.  "  You'd  make 
a  good  candidate.  You've  lots  of  friends  and,"  he 
smiled,  "  you've  proved  that  you're  a  good  vote-getter. 
You'd  be  working  for  a  man  at  last." 

"  Yes,"  Jeremy  said  dully,  "  I'd  be  workin'  for 
you." 

"  No.  I  meant  you'd  be  working  for  yourself, 
Jeremy." 

Tears  stood  in  Jeremy's  eyes.  "  Me !  "  he  cried  bit 
terly.  "  Me  —  a  man !  I'm  just  a  poor  critter  with 
out  any  backbone.  They've  beat  it  out  of  me  with 
their  power  and  their  orders.  I'm  just  man  enough 
to  be  ashamed  but  not  to  fight  'em.  I'm  afraid  of 
'em.  Sheehan's  gone  —  yes,  but  Murchell's  left.  An' 
if  they  was  both  gone,  there'd  be  somebody  to  take 
their  place.  I  been  takin'  their  orders  too  long  to 
b'lieve  you  can  win.  They've  got  me,  body  an'  soul. 
They  get  everybody.  They'll  get  you  in  the  end.  No, 
you  don't  want  me  —  you  need  a  man." 

John  turned  away,  with  a  sickening  sensation,  from 
the  beaten,  hangdog  look  in  Jeremy's  eyes,  realizing 
that  the  generous,  impulsive  suggestion  had  been  un 
wise  indeed.  The  old  soldier  rose  and  stumped 
heavily  to  the  door.  There  he  paused. 

"  But  I  thank  you  kindly  for  thinkin'  of  me,"  he 
said  humbly.  "  I  hope  you  win.  And  I  hope  you 
won't  hold  it  against  me,  Johnny  ?  " 

"  No,  I  shan't  hold  it  against  you,  Jeremy,"  John 
said  gently.  Jeremy  left.  As  always  when  he  saw 
the  old  clerk's  pathetic  plight,  John  felt  anger,  hot,  bit- 


166  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

ter  anger,  rise  against  the  Thing  —  the  "  they  " — 
that  crushed  the  pride  and  courage  out  of  its  servitors, 
made  them  cringing,  fearing  creatures  even  in  the  face 
of  possible  release  from  servitude. 

In  Haig  John  found  an  unexpected  but  invaluable 
aide.  The  novelist  had  once  been  a  political  reporter 
on  a  Steel  City  newspaper  and  he  knew  the  game  of 
politics  as  John  did  not  know  it.  He  gave  much 
shrewd  advice  by  which  John  profited.  And  the  re 
form  ticket  was  nominated.  Murchell,  cynically  will 
ing  to  let  the  reform  wave  run  its  brief  course,  with 
held  his  hand.  The  machine,  headless  and  broken, 
struggled,  but  cautiously,  its  arm  palsied  by  fear  and 
the  certitude  that  defeat  was  to  be  its  portion.  Bereft 
of  its  familiar  weapon  fraud  it  was  easily  conquered 
by  a  people  thoroughly  angered.  Even  Plumville 
gave  the  reformers  a  small  majority.  Haig  hailed 
John  as  a  little  "  boss." 

John  indignantly  rejected  the  title.  "  My  work  is 
done  —  or,  at  least,  will  be  when  they're  elected.  I 
can't  interfere  with  them  then." 

"  Say,  aren't  you  afraid  the  cows  will  take  you  for 
a  bunch  of  nice,  green,  succulent  clover?  Just  wait," 
Haig  grinned,  "  until  they're  in  office.  Make  no  mis 
take,  sonny  —  you'll  need  to  keep  a  tight  rein  on  them. 
About  a  year  from  now  I  expect  to  see  some  pretty 
little,  home-made  illusions  badly  busted." 

There  were  others  who  saw  in  John  a  power  that 
could  bestow  or  withhold. 

A  few  days  after  the  primaries  John  met  Jeremy, 
a  patently-worried  Jeremy,  whose  eyes  would  wander 
away. 

"  I'm   glad   you   won,   Johnny,"   he   declared.     "  I 


APPLES  OF  EDEN  167 

didn't  work  for  you,  but  I  didn't  work  ag'in'  you 
neither  —  not  very  hard." 

"  I  know  that,  Jeremy." 

Jeremy  fumbled  the  button  in  the  lapel  of  his  coat. 
"A  —  about  my  job  —  I  — " 

"  Yes,  Jeremy,"  John  said  hurriedly.  "  You  can 
still  have  it,  if  we  win  in  the  fall  and  I  have  any  influ 
ence."  He  walked  away  to  escape  the  old  man's  grati 
tude.  He  was  becoming  accustomed  to  this  sort  of 
interview. 

And  the  promised  journey  to  the  Ridge  had  not  yet 
been  made. 

One  afternoon  Haig  found  him  in  his  office. 
"How's  the  bosslet?  Had  a  shave  to-day?  Feeling 
conversational  ?  "  Haig's  questions  and  remarks  were 
usually  poured  out  with  the  rapidity  of  a  machine 
gun. 

"  Get  out !  I'm  busy."  John  gave  the  intruder  a 
brief  glance  and  turned  his  attention  again  to  the  paper 
he  was  drawing. 

"  Because,"  Haig  continued,  "  you  and  I  are  going 
out  for  a  little  drive  this  afternoon." 

"  We're  not.  I  hope  you  are.  I've  got  things  to 
do." 

"  This  American  habit  of  industry  is  becoming  a 
positive  mania.  I'll  write  a  novel  about  it.  I'm  told 
the  critics  haven't  had  any  one  to  roast  lately.  Are 
you  coming  peaceably  or  will  you  go  anyhow  ?  " 

"  I'll  do  neither."     John  continued  his  writing. 

"All  right!"  Haig  seated  himself,  deposited  his 
feet  on  the  desk  beside  John  and  commenced  an  ap 
parently  interminable  monologue  on  the  apocryphal 
cleverness  of  a  dog  he  once  had  owned. 


i68  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

"  You're  an  infernal  nuisance  sometimes,  Haig!  " 

"  Coming  along  ?  No  ?  All  right !  As  I  was  say 
ing,  when  Moses  had  learned  to  carry  a  stick  I  taught 
him  to  play  the  drum,  and  after  that  to  use  a  knife 
and  fork  was  easy.  You  ought  to  have  seen — " 

John  threw  down  his  pen  in  disgust.  "  I  surren 
der,"  he  groaned.  "  I'll  go  to  get  rid  of  you." 

"  Thought  I  could  persuade  you.  Come  right 
along.  I've  got  a  buggy  outside." 

John  put  his  papers  away  and  meekly  followed  to 
the  waiting  vehicle.  Haig  drove,  chattering  volubly 
of  whatever  came  into  his  mind.  John  leaned  back 
lazily,  an  audience  of  whom  nothing  was  expected  but 
occasional  assent.  This  was  not  the  first  excursion 
of  the  kind  into  which  Haig  had  seduced  him;  its 
predecessors  had  all  been  enjoyable. 

But  when  Haig  turned  into  the  Ridge  road,  John 
stirred  uneasily.  When,  at  the  crest  of  the  Ridge 
they  turned  toward  the  north,  his  anxiety  found 
words. 

"  Going  anywhere  in  particular  ?  " 

"  Anywhere  you'd  like  to  go  ?  " 

"  No-o,  I  guess  not." 

"  Then  we'll  go  to  the  Hampdens.  There's  al 
ways  somebody  there." 

"  O,  no,  we  won't.  Let's  go  back  the  other  direc 
tion.  I  like  the  south  road  better." 

"  The  devil  you  do !     Why  not  Hampdens  ?  " 

"  Well,  you  see,"  John  began  to  explain  lamely, 
"  Hampden  and  I  aren't  on  very  good  terms  and  — " 

"Lord!  Don't  I  know  that?  He  spends  most  of 
his  time  enumerating  the  different  kinds  of  damn  fool 
you  are.  I  sometimes  think  his  list  is  incomplete. 


APPLES  OF  EDEN  169 

But  what  difference  does  that  make?  We  aren't 
going  to  see  him.  There's  a  fellow  up  there  — 
Gregg  —  that  I  want  you  to  play  tennis  with." 

"  I  haven't  had  a  racket  in  my  hand  all  summer," 
John  protested. 

"  Macht's  nichts  aus!  I've  never  seen  you  play,  but 
you  can  beat  him.  You've  got  to.  He's  got  my 
scalp  so  often,  I  have  to  take  revenge  by  proxy.  Be 
sides,  you  need  a  little  frivolity.  You're  beginning 
to  take  yourself  seriously,  and  that's  a  bad  sign.  And 
I've  been  feeling  selfish  all  summer,  having  no  one  to 
share  her  with  —  her  air  of  being  a  perfect  lady  and 
her  silly  little  affectations  — " 

"  No  one,"  John  interrupted  coldly,  "  could  accuse 
Katherine  Hampden  of  affectation." 

"  Eh  ?  O,  these  youngsters !  "  Haig  groaned, —  he 
might  have  been  two  or  three  years  older  than  John, — 
"  who  can't  hear  the  rustle  of  a  skirt  without  at  once 
suffering  love  pangs  and  can't  understand  that  a  sen 
sible,  experienced  man  gets  more  fun  out  of  the  safe 
old  uns!  I  don't  mean  her.  I  mean  the  mother. 
Isn't  she  a  pippin?  The  picture  of  sleek  health  — 
with  her  constant  look  of  a  dying  calf.  I  fooled  her 
the  other  day,"  he  chuckled.  "  She  thought  she  was 
going  to  faint.  At  least,  she  said  she  was.  She 
clutched  at  me.  I  dodged.  She  sat  plump  down  on 
the  grass.  I  helped  her  up  and  she  walked  away,  the 
maddest  old  hen  in  Benton  County." 

"  I  must  say  you've  a  pleasant  way  of  appreciating 
hospitality ! "  John  protested  indignantly.  "  Let's 
not  go  there  —  not  this  afternoon,  anyway." 

"  Why  not  ?  Don't  work  that  Hampden  excuse 
again  now." 


170  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

"  Well,  I'm  not  fixed  up  for  it."  He  looked  at  his 
shoes  upon  which  a  thin  coating  of  dust  had  settled. 

Haig  surveyed  him  and  then  stretched  out  over  the 
dashboard  a  lean  shank,  the  trouser  of  which  had  not 
felt  an  iron  for  many  a  day.  "  You're  a  regular  dude 
beside  me." 

'  Yes,"  John  grinned,  "  but  then  I'm  not  posing  as 
an  eccentric." 

"  O,  these  witty  rubes !  "  Haig  broke  into  a  gale 
of  shrill  laughter  that  caused  even  their  staid  livery 
horse  to  prick  up  his  ears.  "  Why  don't  you  want 
to  go?  Hm-m-m!  I  scent  mystery  here  —  perhaps 
some  unsuspected  romance.  Is  it  possible  that  you 
and—" 

"  O,  have  it  your  own  way,"  John  agreed  with  as 
good  grace  as  possible.  "  No  wonder  you  could 
write  that  fool  book !  "  He  could  not  well  explain 
that  he  and  Katherine  had  been  in  love,  that  he  was 
still  in  the  same  case  though  she  had  probably  re 
covered,  that  he  had  persistently  stayed  away  from 
her  for  the  sake  of  his  peace  of  mind,  and  —  Almost 
any  excuse  for  yielding  will  serve,  when  one  is  re 
sisting  a  weakness  to  which  one  both  wishes  and  does 
not  wish  to  succumb. 

On  the  shaded  eastern  terrace  they  found  a  small 
group  of  young  people  of  both  sexes.  Haig  saluted 
them  with  a  triumphant  hail,  "  I've  brought  him ! 
Now,  you  broker  man,  I'll  bet  you  ten  dollars  he  can 
beat  you,  best  two  out  of  three  sets." 

Katherine  rose  and  came  forward  to  meet  them. 
Gregg  accompanied  her,  almost  with  the  air  of  a  host, 
it  seemed  to  John.  They  greeted  the  new-comers  cor 
dially,  Katherine  with  such  a  notable  absence  of  con- 


APPLES  OF  EDEN  171 

straint  that  John,  who  had  nerved  himself  for  an 
ordeal,  was  rather  heavily  let  down.  He  could  almost 
have  believed  that  she  had  forgotten  the  ride  home 
under  the  October  moon. 

When  the  greetings  were  over,  "  Now,  Gregg," 
Haig  began,  "  how  about  that  bet?  " 

"  Of  course,  Mr.  Dunmeade,"  Gregg  said  cour 
teously,  "  I  shan't  bet  on  your  performance  without 
your  consent.  But  I'll  be  glad  of  a  match.  I  can  rig 
you  out." 

"  Very  well,"  John  agreed  helplessly.  "  And,"  he 
muttered  vengefully  to  Haig,  "  I  hope  you  lose  your 
bet."  Haig  merely  grinned.  John  followed  Kath- 
erine  to  be  introduced  to  the  rest  of  the  group. 

Yet,  once  a  member  of  the  group,  his  reluctance 
passed  away,  not  suddenly  but  slowly,  driven  out  by 
a  sense  of  exhilaration  that  gradually  stole  in  on 
him:  much  the  sort  of  exhilaration,  one  must  sup 
pose,  felt  by  the  tight-rope  artist  or  by  him 
who  treads  the  edge  of  a  precipice.  The  proximity 
of  danger  challenged  him;  yet  he  told  himself  there 
was  no  danger.  Katherine  had  evidently  decided  to 
ignore  as  a  negligible  episode,  if  she  had  not  for 
gotten,  the  last  summer.  Doubtless  her  brief  interest 
had  been  a  temporary  aberration  induced  by  the  moon 
light.  And,  since  he  must  pay  in  equal  coin  in  any 
case,  why  not  have  something  for  which  to  pay?  Et 
cetera!  Love  always  has  its  sophistries,  which  con 
vince  without  deceiving. 

And  it  was  undeniably  pleasant  to  loll  luxuriously 
in  the  comfortable  wicker  chair,  watching  the  play 
of  animated  young  faces  from  whose  freshness 
neither  work  nor  worry  had  subtracted,  against  the 


172  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

background  of  greensward  and  flowering  shrubbery; 
listening  to  the  tinkle  of  ice  in  glasses  and  the  hum 
of  well-bred  voices  in  small  talk,  not  very  witty  nor 
wise  perhaps,  but  relaxing,  soothing;  breathing  in  the 
heavy  fragrance  of  honeysuckle  and  hyacinth  with 
which  the  aroma  from  his  very  good  cigarette  mingled 
deliciously.  Occasionally  he  tossed  a  light  word  on 
the  eddy  of  conversation.  He  noticed  that  when  he 
spoke,  all,  especially  the  men,  showed  interest.  That, 
too,  was  pleasant. 

"  I  don't  greatly  want,  I  certainly  don't  need,  but 
I  can  enjoy  this  sort  of  thing,"  he  thought.  "  A 
little  of  it,  that  is.  And  I  can  understand  that  one 
brought  up  in  it  might  think  it  indispensable."  This 
was  not  so  pleasant. 

Later,  Gregg  reminded  him  of  the  promised  match 
and,  when  they  had  donned  flannels,  it  was  played. 
John  lost,  although  after  the  first  set  he  gave  his 
opponent  a  hard  game.  Gregg  proved  a  generous 
conqueror,  finding  more  excuses  for  his  victory  than 
John  could  have  devised.  The  latter  enjoyed  every 
point,  especially  when  Haig,  grumbling  something 
about  a  "  thrown  match,"  paid  his  bet  Afterward, 
in  the  physical  contentment  consequent  upon  hard 
exercise  and  a  good  tubbing,  he  stayed  to  dinner,  a 
very  gay,  informal  affair  served  on  the  terrace  by 
candlelight.  He  sat  between  pretty  Mrs.  Gilbert,  who 
he  understood  had  a  husband  somewhere,  and  little 
Miss  Haines,  who  adored  Persian  cats  and  was  very 
much  interested  in  his  account  of  a  "  smoke  "  that 
Miss  Roberta  possessed.  Then  more  luxurious  loll 
ing  and  smoking  into  the  gathering  night.  After 


APPLES  OF  EDEN  173, 

which  there  was  music,  furnished  principally  by 
Mrs.  Gilbert,  who  sang  really  well,  and  by  Haig,  who 
had  a  fair  tenor  voice.  John  was  almost  regretful 
when  the  time  came  to  leave. 

Late  that  night,  going  over  the  day,  he  found  that 
he  had  talked  a  great  deal  with  Katherine,  but  never ' 
alone.  If  she  had  manceuvered,  she  had  accomplished 
it  so  cleverly  that  he  could  not  perceive  the  intention. 
Just  once  had  he  excuse  to  believe  that  she  still  thought 
of  the  last  summer.  He  was  leaving. 

"  I  am  very  glad  you  came,"  she  said  brightly. 
"  You  will  come  again?  " 

"  And  I  am  glad.     I  certainly  shall." 

Then  it  was  he  thought  he  caught  a  question  flick 
ering  momentarily  in  her  eyes.  But  the  question,  if 
there  at  all  save  in  his  imagination,  was  gone  before 
he  could  make  sure. 

"Good  night!" 

He  was  silent  during  the  drive  homeward,  and  Haig, 
busily  humming  the  pilgrims'  chorus  motif,  did  not 
try  to  interrupt  his  thoughts.  They  were  nearing  the 
town  when  Haig  abruptly  broke  the  silence. 

"  It's  a  shame,  isn't  it?  "  he  said  musingly.  "  Na 
ture  evidently  intended  her  for  a  mother.  With  that 
superb  body  and  health  she  ought  to  bring  a  dozen 
or  so  equally  superb  children  into  the  world  and  give 
her  life  to  bringing  'em  up." 

"  Haig,"  John  said  shortly,  "  you  have  a  most  dis 
gusting  fashion  of  discussing  women." 

"  Now,  Polly  Ann  dear !  "  the  novelist  jeered,  "  don't 
fly  off  the  handle.  Where's  the  harm  in  discussing 
an  event  that  is  repeated  oftener  than  any  other  in 


174  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

all  nature  ?  —  But  she  won't.  She'll  probably  marry 
that  Gregg,  shirk  her  manifest  destiny  and  devote  her 
life  to  turning  herself  into  a  selfish  pig. 

"  Unless,"  he  chuckled,  "  you  take  the  field  for  her 
salvation  and  the  honor  of  New  Chelsea.  There's 
your  chance.  Go  it,  my  son !  " 

John's  laugh  may  have  convinced  himself.  "  Sup 
pose  I  were  fool  enough  to  try,  I'd  have  a  lot  to 
offer  against  the  apparently  irresistible  Gregg, 
wouldn't  I?" 

"  Well,  now,"  Haig  repeated  the  chuckle,  "  I  hadn't 
thought  of  that.  You'd  have  nothing.  I'll  tell  you 
what  we'll  do.  We'll  go  to  my  rooms  and  throw 
cold  hands,  quarter  a  throw,  until  I've  won  back  that 
ten  dollars  you  lost  me." 

"  And  I'll  tell  you  what  we'll  do.  We'll  drive  right 
home  and  go  to  bed.  I'm  too  sleepy  to  endure  more 
of  your  clatter  to-night." 

Haig's  parting  shot  as  they  separated  was,  "  Now 
I've  shown  you  the  way,  go  up  there  often.  You'll 
be  a  brighter  and  nobler  man  for  it." 

John  went,  not  often  and  always  in  Haig's  com 
pany,  it  is  true,  but  often  enough  to  keep  burning 
brightly  the  fires  within  him. 

If  John's  love  affairs  remained  in  statu  quo,  those 
of  another  advanced,  at  least  to  a  climax.  Amid  the 
cares  of  bank  and  divers  trusteeships  WTarren  Blake 
found  time  to  contribute  to  the  gaiety  of  the  Ridge. 
That  is  to  say,  he  was  frequently  to  be  found  on  the 
Hampden  terrace,  an  inconspicuous,  often  half-for 
gotten  listener  to  the  nimble  gossip  and  badinage. 
Had  he  been  more  obtrusive,  it  is  probable  that 
he  would  have  been  snubbed  into  staying  away;  but 


APPLES  OF  EDEN  175 

one  does  not  greatly  resent  the  attentions  of  a 
shadow. 

Sometimes  Katherine  let  him  ride  with  her,  finding 
his  infrequent,  prosaic  utterances  almost  a  comfort. 
She  did  not  admit  to  herself  that  she  needed  com 
fort,  but  there  were  times  when  the  monotony  of 
familiar  faces  and  the  unvarying  chatter  chafed  and 
she  had  a  need  to  get  away  into  the  hills  alone.  To 
be  with  Warren  was  to  be  practically  alone.  They 
were  on  such  an  excursion  late  one  afternoon.  Ap 
parently  the  reflections  in  which  she  had  lost  herself 
did  not  concern  him,  for  she  did  not  hear  a  question 
that  he  addressed  to  her. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,  Warren.  I  wasn't  listen- 
ing—"  ' 

He  repeated  the  question.     "  Will  you  marry  me?  " 

She  gasped  in  astonishment.  "  Why,  Warren,  I  — 
I  have  never  considered — " 

"  I  thought  you  wouldn't."  His  tone,  almost  de 
void  of  feeling,  misled  her  into  a  smile. 

"  Why  did  you  ask,  then?  " 

"  I  owed  it  to  myself  to  try." 

"  I  don't  think  you  care  very  much,  Warren."  It 
was  difficult  to  take  this  proposal  seriously. 

"  Yes,  I  do,"  he  answered  quietly.  Then  she  saw 
his  eyes  and  knew  that  she  was  in  the  presence  of  a 
real  suffering.  Instantly  she  became  gentle. 

"  I  am  sorry  —  I  didn't  think  — " 

"  You  needn't  be  sorry  over  something  you  can't 
control,"  he  interrupted.  "  One  loves  or  one  doesn't. 
We  don't  have  much  to  do  with  it." 

"  At  least,"  she  said  gently,  "  one  can  suppress  an 
unhappy  love.  I  hope  — " 


176  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

"  You  know  better  than  that." 

She  knew  better  than  that!  .  .  .  Somehow  his 
quiet  words  sent  the  blood  rushing  to  her  cheeks. 

"  Why  don't  you  marry  John  Dunmeade?  "  he  asked 
abruptly. 

She  turned  on  him  angrily.  "  Warren !  That  is 
an—" 

"An  impertinence?"  he  interrupted  again,  evenly. 
lt  You  will  allow  me  this  time.  I'm  not  likely  to 
bother  you  much  again. —  You  were  in  love  with  him 
last  summer.  And  you  aren't  the  sort  that  forgets. 
Nor  is  he,  I  think.  He  will  go  further  than  any  of 
us  —  he'll  go  better.  He  is  what  you  need.  With 
me  —  with  Gregg  —  you  would  be  merely  a  pleasant 
incident.  You  know  that  yourself.  I  think  you're 
fighting  against  that  knowledge.  Don't  do  it."  It 
was  the  longest  speech  she  had  ever  heard  from  his 
lips. 

"  I  think,"  she  said  with  more  bitterness  than  she 
realized,  "  women  are  always  just  a  pleasant  incident 
in  the  lives  of  men.  That  is  truer  of  John  Dunmeade 
than  of  any  man  I  know." 

Characteristically,  he  made  no  reply;  he  had  said 
what  he  had  to  say.  For  more  than  a  mile  they  rode 
without  speaking.  She  was  struggling  to  regain  the 
wonted  outward  serenity  he  had  so  unexpectedly  dis 
turbed,  and  to  silence  the  questions  her  heart  per 
sisted  in  asking.  It  was  not  a  new  struggle  for  her. 
All  summer  she  had  been  engaged  in  it,  in  the  effort 
to  hold  firmly  to  a  resolution  she  had  made. 

When  they  were  nearing  home  she  turned  to  him 
again.  "  I  didn't  know  you  and  he  were  friends." 


APPLES  OE  EDEN  177 

"  We  are  not,"  he  replied  simply.  "  He  doesn't 
care  for  me." 

"  You  are  mistaken  about  him  and  me,"  she  said 
steadily.  "  But  that  you  could  plead  for  him,  when 
you  —  O,  I  call  that  fine,  Warren !  "  she  ended  im 
pulsively. 

"  I'm  thinking  of  you,"  he  said.  "  Since  I  can't 
have  what  I  want,  I  want  you  to  have  what  you 
need." 

When  they  reached  the  house,  he  helped  her  to 
alight  and  would  have  left  with  merely  a  formal 
"  Good  afternoon."  But  she  held  out  her  hand.  "  I 
—  I  have  done  you  an  injustice,"  she  said  kindly. 
"  We  all  have.  I  think  you  are  a  very  fine  gentle 
man.  I  can't  give  you  —  what  you  want.  But  I  can 
give  a  sincere  respect  —  and  the  hope  that  you  will 
find  happiness." 

He  smiled  faintly  and  rode  away,  leaving  her  with 
the  sense  of  having  done  an  unintended  cruelty. 

She  waited  until  the  groom  came  to  take  her  horse 
and  then  walked  slowly  to  a  shaded  seat  in  a  secluded 
corner  of  the  garden.  For  more  than  an  hour  she 
sat,  chin  cupped  in  one  hand,  gazing  out  over  the 
green  hills.  Once,  "  It's  such  a  jumble,"  she  sighed, 
" —  what  I  want.  I  wish  I  weren't  so  —  I  wish  he  — " 
She  did  not  indicate  what  she  wished,  and  she  was  not 
referring  to  Warren  Blake. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE    PRIME    MINISTER 

SENATOR  MURCHELL,  after  several  weeks'  ab 
sence,  had  returned  to  his  "  legal  residence."  On 
his  roundabout  journey  homeward  he  had  been  in 
terviewed  by  many  reporters  concerning  a  rumored 
revolt  in  the  organization.  His  answers,  they  had 
noticed,  were  marked  by  an  irritable  quality  strange 
indeed,  coming  from  the  man  who  "  played  politics 
twenty- four  hours  of  every  day." 

A  few  days  after  the  senator's  return,  New  Chel 
sea  was  visited  by  a  monarch.  But  he  came  incognito, 
with  a  notable  absence  of  regal  splendor.  To  Silas 
Hicks,  at  the  station,  appeared  a  short,  square-whis 
kered,  alert  man  who  asked  to  be  taken  to  Senator 
Murchell's  home. 

"  Senator's  out  to  the  farm,"  Silas  responded  in  the 
omniscience  of  hackmen. 

"  Then  take  me  to  the  farm." 

Arrived  at  the  farm,  he  received  another  command 
—  to  wait.  A  hired  man  was  repairing  a  broken 
place  in  the  fence.  From  him  royalty  demanded  to 
know  the  whereabouts  of  the  prime  minister. 

The  hired  man  leisurely  drove  a  nail  before  an 
swering;  he  recognized  no  power  higher  than  the 
premiership  and  was  accustomed  to  the  arrival  of 
gentlemen  in  a  hurry.  "  'Low  ye'll  find  the  senator," 

178 


THE  PRIME  MINISTER  179 

he  drawled,  pointing  with  his  thumb,  "  in  the  potato 
patch  back  of  the  barn." 

Before  the  words  were  out  of  his  mouth,  the  visitor 
had  started,  with  quick,  decided  steps,  in  the  direction 
indicated. 

"  Seems  to  be  some  in  a  hurry,"  the  hired  man  com 
mented. 

Silas  sighed.  "  Guess  I  can't  charge  him  more'n 
two  dollars  fer  the  trip."  Silas  had  this  in  common 
with  his  passenger :  his  motto  was,  "  Charge  all  the 
traffic  can  bear." 

In  the  middle  of  the  potato  patch  the  visitor  beheld 
the  figure  of  his  minister,  arrayed  in  a  pair  of  the 
hired  man's  overalls  and  a  straw  hat  of  enormous 
brim,  busily  hoeing.  Toward  this  truly  rural  figure 
Sackett  —  for  our  monarch  is  no  other  than  the  presi 
dent  of  the  great  Atlantic  Railroad  —  made  his  way, 
considerably  to  the  damage  of  the  vines  beneath  his 
feet. 

"Careful!"  admonished  the  senator.  "Walk  be 
tween  the  hills." 

Sackett  became  more  careful.  "  How  are  you, 
Senator?" 

"How're  you,  Sackett?" 

Their  hands  met,  to  part  instantly. 

"  I  was  in  Plumville  and  thought  I'd  drop  over  to 
see  you." 

"  Yes  ?  "  One  might  have  perceived  in  the  sena 
tor's  tone  a  lack  of  that  eager  interest  to  receive  which 
is  a  royal  prerogative. 

"  Raising  quite  a  crop,  aren't  you  —  of  farmer 
votes?  Didn't  Lincoln  say  something  about  the  man 
who  raises  two  votes  where  one  grew  before?  " 


i8o  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

To  which  facetious  remark  the  senator  vouchsafed 
no  answer  but  a  grunt.  Sackett  looked  out  over  the 
young  corn  in  the  neighboring  field. 

"  Sorry  you  missed  me  in  Adelphia.  I  was  in  New 
York." 

"  Didn't  miss  you,"  Murchell  grunted  again.  "  I 
didn't  look  for  you." 

There  was  a  pause  during  which  he  resumed  his 
hoeing. 

"  What,"  Sackett  demanded,  "  is  the  matter  with 
Sherrod?" 

The  senator's  hoe  hovered  over  a  crawling  bug. 
"  Nothing  more'n  usual,"  he  answered.  "  Seems  to 
be  a  good  many  bugs  this  year.  I  must  get  some  bug- 
killer."  The  descending  hoe  cut  the  bug  into  two 
squirming  pieces.  Sackett  looked  up  inquiringly;  he 
wondered  if  the  senator  were  speaking  in  parables. 

"  Can't  we  get  out  of  this  sun?  "  He  mopped  his 
red  face. 

Murchell  dropped  the  hoe  and  led  the  way  to  a 
lone  walnut  tree  at  the  corner  of  the  patch  and  they 
sat  down. 

"  About  Sherrod,"  Sackett  began,  "  why  can't  you 
patch  up  things  with  him?  " 

"  He  wants  too  much,"  Murchell  answered  briefly. 

"  I  was  talking  to  him  last  week." 

Murchell  turned  on  him  suddenly.  "  Told  you  I 
ought  to  get  down  from  the  head  of  the  organization, 
didn't  he?  Told  you  that  Adelphia  and  the  Steel 
City  are  turning  against  me,  that  he  wants  to  be  gov 
ernor  and  that  the  steel  people  want  Parrott  for  my 
job  in  the  senate,  didn't  he?" 


THE  PRIME  MINISTER  181 

Sackett  was  astonished  at  this  apparent  omnis 
cience. 

"  Did  you  deal  with  him,  Sackett?  " 

"  No." 

"  But  you  sent  him  away  in  a  good  humor,  eh  ? 
Like  to  be  friends  with  both  sides,  don't  you  ?  " 

"  You  fellows,"  Sackett  exploded  irritably,  "  had 
better  settle  your  squabbles,  or  you'll  give  some  in 
cendiary  the  chance  to  step  in  and  raise  Cain.  The 
trouble  is,  Sherrod  is  close  to  the  Steel  City  organiza 
tion  —  and  the  Michigan  is  trying  to  get  into  the 
city."  The  secret  of  the  royal  irritation  is  out;  a 
competing  monarch  is  making  ready  to  invade  his 
dominion ! 

Murchell  smiled  bitterly.  "So  that's  it?  For 
twenty  years  I've  been  doing  your  dirty  work.  And 
now  at  the  first  threat  of  competition  you're  ready  to 
throw  me  over  without  a  scruple  —  if  you  think  it's 
safe!  It  isn't  safe,  Sackett.  Lord!  what  cowards 
you  rich  men  are !  You're  rotten  —  rotten  as  last 
year's  apples." 

Sackett's  eyes  snapped  angrily.  "  I've  my  duty  to 
my  stock-holders  —  of  whom  you  are  one.  Can  you 
keep  the  Michigan  out  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  so  I  won't  promise.  But  have  I 
ever  failed  you  yet?  " 

"How  are  you  going  to  do  it?" 

"  I  don't  know  yet.  I'll  let  you  know  later  how 
much  it'll  cost  you.  This  reform  crowd  in  the  Steel 
City,"  he  added  without  humorous  intent,  "  comes 
high." 

"  I  don't  believe  you  can  do  it.     You're  too  unpop- 


182  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

ular  with  the  organization.  You've  been  too  strong- 
handed.  Things  are  ripe  for  a  revolt.  Why,  you 
can't  even  control  your  own  county!  " 

"  When  I  give  up  hope  for  this  county,'5  the  sena 
tor  answered  sharply,  "  you  can  talk.  AH  that's  been 
said  before.  How  do  you  expect  me  to  keep  these 
hungry  coyotes  in  line  —  by  quoting  golden-rule 
Scripture  at  'em  ?  Do  you  want  to  go  back  to  the  old 
guerrilla  days,  Sackett  ?  " 

Sackett  stared  moodily  at  his  feet.  Murchell  took 
off  his  old  straw  hat  and  leaned  against  the  tree.  He 
waited  until  Sackett  was  ready  to  speak. 

"  About  Parrott,"  Sackett  said,  after  a  long  pause. 
"  MacGregor  and  Flick  want  him  for  senator." 

"  He's  slated  for  governor.     I  like  rny  job." 

"  But  Sherrod  wants  to  be  governor." 

"  He'll  take  what  he's  earned  and  can  get,"  Mur 
chell  said  shortly.  "  Parrott  can  have  Roseben's  place 
four  years  from  now  —  maybe  —  we'll  see." 

"  But  they  want  him  to  have  your  place.  They 
say,"  Sackett  explained  with  that  brutal  frankness 
which  we  naturally  associate  with  royalty,  "  that 
you're  nothing  but  a  politician  and  have  been  identified 
with  a  lot  of  unpopular  things,  while  Parrott  is  a 
fine  lawyer  and  could  easily  work  up  a  reputation  as 
a  statesman.  They  figure  he  could  get  'em  more. 
And  they  don't  care  whether  the  Michigan  gets  in  or 
not;  they  think  they'd  get  better  rates.  And  they're 
afraid  that  you  and  Sherrod  with  your  squabbles  will 
spill  the  milk.  I'm  afraid  of  that,  too,"  he  added 
gloomily. 

He  looked  at  the  senator  inquiringly.  Murchell 
was  staring  listlessly  at  a  brown-winged  butterfly  that 


THE  PRIME  MINISTER  183 

hovered  near  them,  his  mouth  relaxed  in  a  smile,  the 
quality  of  which  Sackett  could  not  understand. 

"  Senator,  you're  getting  to  be  an  old  man.  You've 
had  enough.  Why  don't  you  —  retire?  " 

Murchell  sat  up  suddenly  as  though  he  had  re 
ceived  an  electric  shock.  He  caught  Sackett's  knee 
in  a  grip  not  exactly  senile. 

"  Old,  am  I  ?  "  he  exclaimed  harshly.  "  Want  me 
to  retire,  do  you?  Well,  I  won't.  And  I'll  tell  you 
why — because  the  organization,  the  power,  is  mine. 
Mine,  not  yours!  Not  your  money,  but  my  brain, 
put  it  together.  I'm  nothing  but  a  disreputable  poli 
tician,  I'm  not  a  polished  lawyer  —  because  I've  been 
a  slave  to  the  organization,  because  I've  used  my 
power  and  talents  for  you,  first  to  protect  you  from 
the  blackmailers  and  then  from  the  people.  Set  your 
mind  easy.  I'm  too  old  to  learn  new  tricks.  I'll 
not  turn  agitator  like  these  dreamers  and  fellows  with 
a  grievance.  The  Michigan  won't  come  in,  if  I  can 
help  it.  But  Sherrod  won't  be  governor  and  Parrott 
won't  get  my  seat.  I'm  not  going  to  give  up  what 
I've  worked  for  all  my  life."  He  sank  back  against 
the  tree.  His  grip  on  Sackett's  knee  relaxed.  The 
energy  died  out  of  his  voice,  the  gleam  from  his 
eyes. 

"  I  guess,"  he  said  dryly,  "  you've  said  what  you 
came  to  say.  And  you've  got  my  answer."  He 
looked  at  his  watch.  "If  you're  going  to  take  that 
three  o'clock  train,  you'd  better  hustle.  You  shouldn't 
have  come  at  all." 

Sackett  frowned,  not  at  the  absurdity  of  the  mon 
arch  being  dismissed  by  his  premier.  "  I'll  think  over 
what  you've  said."  They  rose. 


184  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

Murchell  gripped  him  again,  this  time  by  the  shoul 
der.  "  You  tell  'em  that  I  like  my  job  and  that  I'm 
not  too  old  to  run  it.  And,  Sackett,"  he  added,  "  play 
fair  —  play  fair!  " 

Sackett  left,  wondering  if  in  an  enlightened,  up- 
to-date  monarchy  a  prime  minister  could  have  more 
power  than  his  liege.  Had  he  looked  back,  he  would 
have  seen  the  man  who  had  never  worked  up  a  repu 
tation  as  a  statesman,  industriously  plying  his  hoe. 
Sackett  would  have  been  surprised,  had  he  known  that 
the  senator's  mind  was  not  on  the  conversation  just 
ended ;  he  was  seeing  —  very  clearly  —  the  gray- 
green  eyes  of  a  young  woman  and  measuring  himself 
against  a  young  man  who  once  had  been. 

After  a  while  the  senator  discovered  that  he  was 
digging  up  vines  as  well  as  weeds.  He  straightened 
up. 

"  I'm  a  sentimental  old  fool,"  he  growled  com- 
plainingly,  "  to  let  ghosts  of  the  past  disturb  me." 

He  plucked  a  handful  of  grass  and  carefully  cleaned 
his  hoe,  then  walked  slowly  to  the  house. 

"  I  guess,"  he  said  to  the  hired  man,  "  you  may  as 
well  hitch  up.  I'm  going  into  town." 

"  Mighty  smart-lookin'  feller,"  the  hired  man  sug 
gested,  "  was  here  just  now." 

"  That,"  answered  Murchell,  "  was  a  gentleman 
who  believes  in  the  divine  right  of  kings." 

The  hired  man  considered  this  statement.  "  Snakes ! 
Guess  he  ain't  a  Republican  then."  And  went  to 
hitch  up. 

John  was  standing  at  the  window  of  his  court-house 
office.  The  sense  of  loneliness  was  upon  him  again. 


THE  PRIME  MINISTER  185 

It  is  a  fact  that  exalted  moments,  when  a  man's  ears 
are  attuned  to  the  voices  of  the  growing  things,  come 
very  infrequently.  Between  them  are  periods  when 
purpose,  when  impulse  to  be  a  Voice,  are  not  enough ; 
when  the  task  looms  large  and  the  man  seems  small, 
unequal,  presumptuous.  It  may  be  that  the  sight  of 
Katherine  Hampden  sauntering  down  Main  Street  in 
company  with  a  beflanneled  summer  gentleman  had 
something  to  do  with  his  mood. 

Then  another  vision  was  accorded  him,  of  a  fat 
white  horse  lazily  drawing  an  ancient  top-buggy  in 
which  sat  Senator  Murchell,  for  all  the  world  a  pros 
perous  farmer  passing  into  age  amid  peace  and  plenty. 
John  grinned  ironically  at  what  he  regarded  as  an 
obvious  affectation ;  an  injustice  to  the  senator.  The 
horse  stopped.  John  watched  Murchell  while  he  tied 
the  beast  to  the  hitching-post  and  strode  toward  the 
court-house.  Then  the  grin  died  away.  Somehow 
the  rugged,  practical  face,  the  big,  loosely  built, 
slightly  stooping  figure  clad  in  the  flowing  alpaca  coat 
seemed  the  very  expression  of  power  —  and  of  some 
thing  which  John  believed  William  Murchell  was  not. 
John  tried  to  measure  himself  against  the  older  man, 
and  sighed.  He  turned  away  from  the  window. 

A  minute  later  came  a  knock  at  his  door.  "  Come !  " 
he  said. 

The  senator  entered.     "  Afternoon,  John." 

"  What  can  I  do  for  you  ?  " 

"  Humph !  don't  seem  very  glad  to  see  me.  You 
might  ask  me  to  sit  down." 

John  pointed  to  a  chair,  "  Why  hesitate  ?  It's 
your  court-house,  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  Understood  you'd  taken  a  mortgage  on  it  your- 


i86  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

self,  lately."  Murchell  sat  down,  looking  genially  at 
John.  The  latter  smoked  in  silence,  wondering  what 
this  call  might  portend. 

"  So  you  think  I'm  a  disgrace  to  the  state  ?  "  the 
senator  inquired  at  last. 

"  Well,  just  about  that,"  John  said  pleasantly. 

"  Told  Miss  Roberta  I'm  a  bad  man,  didn't  you?  " 

"  I  could  have  put  it  stronger." 

"  How  could  you  have  put  it  ?  " 

John  did  not  answer  at  once.  He  stared  thought 
fully  at  the  smoke  curling  from  his  pipe. 

"  You  aren't  afraid  to  say  it,  are  you?  " 

"  No,  I  was  just  thinking  how  to  put  it,"  John  said 
quietly.  "  I  could  have  said  that  you  are  a  shameful 
force  in  politics,  that  you  have  exploited  a  great  party 
and  the  ignorance  of  the  people,  that  you  have  built 
up  a  machine  for  the  sole  purpose  of  looting  the 
state,  that  you  have  got  and  held  power  by  com 
pelling  public  servants  to  use  the  influence  of  their 
office  to  perpetuate  your  machine  and  by  buying  the 
votes  of  the  corruptible.  There's  probably  a  lot  more, 
if  I  only  knew  it.  I've  never  heard  that  you  have 
used  your  power  for  any  good  thing.  Without  pro 
fession  or  business  you  are  a  rich  man  —  how  ?  Yet 
you  expect  people  to  respect,  to  obey  you  without 
question,  as  though  it  were  your  right.  I  suppose 
you  are  honestly  astounded,  hurt  perhaps,  because  I, 
the  fellow  you  graciously  offered  to  make  a  cat's-paw 
of,  have  turned  against  you?  " 

"  Humph !  "  grunted  Murchell,  who  had  listened 
without  display  of  feeling.  "  Doesn't  mean  much. 
You'd  have  hard  work  proving  any  of  it." 


THE  PRIME  MINISTER  187 

"  I  have  proved  part  of  it.     Isn't  it  true?  " 

"  That  isn't  quite  a  fair  question.  If  I  say  yes,  I'm 
condemned  out  of  my  own  mouth.  If  I  say  no, 
you  won't  believe  me." 

"  Can  you  give  me  a  reason  for  believing  it  isn't 
true?" 

"  You  wouldn't  believe  my  reason.  Young  men," 
said  the  senator  sententiously,  "  are  always  pig 
headed." 

They  relapsed  into  silence.  John  looked  out  of  the 
window,  awaiting  in  cold  silence  the  senator's  next 
words.  Murchell  preserved  his  usual  impassive  front. 
It  was  not  the  first  time  he  had  encountered  the  in 
tolerance  of  youth.  But  never  before,  save  during 
the  Sheehan  trial,  had  the  intolerance  pierced  the 
crust  of  the  man.  He  measured  himself  against  the 
younger  man.  He  did  not  sigh,  as  John  had  done; 
but  that  dull  regret  felt  during  the  trial  —  he  told 
himself  it  was  because  of  so  much  power  going  to 
waste  —  began  again. 

He  broke  the  silence.     "  What  do  you  want  ?  " 

"  I'm  not  for  sale,"  John  answered  contemptuously. 

"  I  didn't  mean  that.  I  know,"  Murchell  said 
grimly,  "  a  fool  when  I  see  one.  What  do  you  want 
to  do?" 

John  turned  to  face  him.  "  A  good  many  things 
you  wouldn't  understand.  Principally,  I  suppose,  to 
smash  you  and  your  organization.  That  probably 
sounds  funny  to  you." 

It  is  on  record  that  Goliath,  meeting  the  belligerent 
David,  laughed.  Murchell  did  not  laugh.  He  merely 
felt  pity  for  an  unpractical  young  dreamer. 


i88  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

"  You  can't  smash  the  organization." 

"  It  must  be  smashed.  Because  it  exists  to  deprive 
the  people  of  the  right  of  self-government." 

"  A  pretty  phrase !  It's  common-sense  politics. 
The  people  don't  want  to  govern  themselves  —  they 
can't.  They  need  some  one  to  take  the  burden  from 
them.  Popular  government,"  he  spoke  as  one  gen 
tleman  to  another,  in  confidence,  "  is  a  farce,  a  dream 
of  the  millenium,  an  ideal,  impracticable.  Govern 
ment  by  a  headless  mob  would  be  little  short  of  an 
archy.  The  men  that  founded  this  nation  didn't  want, 
didn't  prepare  for  popular  government.  They  wanted 
just  what  we've  got  —  government  by  those  capable 
of  governing." 

John  remained  skeptically  mute. 

"  How  are  you  going  to  smash  us  ?  " 

"  It  may  be  simpler  than  you  think,  Senator  Mur- 
chell.  When  the  people  understand  what  you  are, 
they'll  smash  you." 

The  other  smiled  pityingly.  "  You  think  because 
you've  sent  a  few  poor  devils  to  jail  you're  a  man 
of  destiny,  don't  you?  You  think  I'm  merely  a 
wicked  old  fellow  who's  got  power  and  is  using 
it  for  his  own  selfish  ends.  If  I  were  just  that,  you 
could  smash  me.  But  I'm  more  than  that.  I  am  an 
institution  —  a  part  of  a  necessary  institution.  One 
that  society,  that  property,  that  business  can't  get 
along  without.  The  power  is  mine  —  yes !  But  I 
hold  it  only  because  it  serves  to  protect  business  from 
the  little  blackmailers  on  the  one  hand  and  the  whims 
of  the  people  on  the  other.  I'm  what  you  call  a  boss. 
Sentimentalists  gag  at  the  name  rather  than  the  fact. 
But  the  boss  is  a  logical  evolution.  He  has  always 


THE  PRIME  MINISTER  189 

existed  in  some  form  or  other  —  he  always  will.  For 
he  is  the  flywheel  that  gives  stability  to  government 
and  makes  possible  industrial  development.  You 
can  smash  William  Murchell  —  that  is,  put  some  one 
in  his  place.  But  you  can't  smash  the  institution." 
He  spoke  sincerely.  Also  he  forgot  certain  words 
spoken  to  Sackett  earlier  in  the  day.  "  And,"  he  con 
cluded,  "  you  can't  judge  a  system  by  its  incidental 
errors." 

John  smiled,  not  very  happily.  "  I've  heard  that 
before.  The  weakness  of  your  argument  is  that  the 
errors  seem  to  be  essential.  Government  isn't  or 
shouldn't  be  merely  a  matter  of  force,  nor  exist  only 
as  the  servant  of  property  —  even  if  all  you  say  is 
true. 

"  I  don't  call  you  a  wicked  old  fellow,"  he  went  on 
gravely.  "  I  don't  suppose  any  man  is  altogether  bad 
or  even  wholly  worthless.  But  we  have  no  right  to 
accept  more  of  it  than  we  must.  We  certainly 
oughtn't  to  compromise  with  it  or  build  upon  it. 
And  —  I've  got  to  go  on." 

"  And  where'll  you  come  out?  " 

"  I  ?  You  will  try  to  break  me.  You  may  suc 
ceed.  But  you  will  observe  that  I  have  little  to  lose. 
If  I  had  much  —  you  won't  understand  this  —  I  hope 
I'd  lose  it  gladly." 

"Did  I  say  I  was  going  to  break  you?"  Murchell 
demanded  testily.  "  Why  do  you  think  I  came  here 
to-day?" 

"Why?" 

"  To  suggest  that  you  come  out  for  Wash  Jenkins' 
seat  in  Congress." 

John's   reply  was  almost  bitter.     "  So  I  have  im- 


190  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

pressed  you  as  a  hypocrite  trying  to  get  kicked  up 
out  of  the  way.  I  repeat,  I'm  not  for  sale." 

Murchell  suddenly  rose  and  put  a  heavy  hand  on 
John's  shoulder.  "  You  said  you  have  little  to  lose. 
You  have  much  —  a  future.  You've  gone  out  of 
your  way  to  attack  me  —  you're  a  fool.  But  I  —  I 
like  you,  man.  And  I'd  like  to  save  that  future  for 
you." 

For  a  moment  John  stared  at  him,  incredulous. 
Was  it  possible  that  in  the  old  politician  lay  some 
thing  good,  something  gentle?  He  shook  off  the 
hand  and  rose.  He  went  to  the  window,  staring  out 
wonderingly.  .  .  .  He  saw  a  strange  thing  — 
Jeremy  Applegate  stumping  across  the  Square  and 
pausing  under  the  flag,  looking  up.  The  veteran's 
hand  rose,  as  though  in  salute ;  then,  arrested  midway, 
it  fell  limply  and  Jeremy  marched  on. 

John  pointed.  "  There,  Senator,  is  one  who  en 
tered  the  service  of  your  institution.  I  think  he  was 
a  man  once.  He  must  have  been,  for  he  risked  his 
life  for  a  cause  —  you  were  playing  politics  at  the 
time,  I  believe.  Now  he  is  a  broken-spirited  old  man 
with  just  enough  soul  left  to  be  ashamed.  If  I  be 
came  part  of  your  machine,  in  the  end  I'd  become 
like  that  —  different  in  size  perhaps,  but  the  same  in 
kind.  I,"  he  said  quietly,  "prefer  your  enmity;  it's 
safer." 

Murchell  made  no  answer.  He  looked  out  of 
the  window,  no  flicker  of  feeling  on  the  set,  rugged 
face.  After  a  few  moments  of  silence  he  turned  and 
walked,  still  without  speaking,  to  the  door. 

"  You're  forgetting  your  hat."  John  took  it  across 
to  him.  Murchell  accepted  it  without  comment. 


THE  PRIME  MINISTER  191 

"  And,"  John  said,  "  I  think  I  begin  to  under 
stand.  You  represent  an  institution.  I  stand  for  a 
principle,  a  fundamental  principle.  You  can  smash 
John  Dunmeade  —  O,  very  easily,  no  doubt ;  but, 
Senator  Murchell,  you  can't  smash  the  principle !  " 

The  senator  did  not  often  permit  himself  the  luxury 
of  losing  his  temper,  but  he  was  exceedingly  close  to 
it  just  then.  He  was  angry,  very  angry.  He  was 
sure  it  was  merely  impatience  with  the  short 
sighted  pig-headedness  that  would  not  listen  to  reason 
• —  his  reason !  —  the  impudence  that  dared  to  lec 
ture  him,  the  master.  He  would  not  have  admitted 
that  it  was  because  the  friendship  he  had  offered  to 
a  young  man  whom  he  liked  strangely  well  had  been 
so  contemptuously  rejected  and  the  hurt  was  all  the 
deeper  because  he  had  broken  the  rule  of  a  lifetime  to 
make  the  offer.  He  carefully  waited  until  the  emo 
tion  had  subsided,  before  speaking. 

"  It's  a  good  deal  simpler  to  state  a  principle  than 
to  follow  it  in  practice.  Any  man  sitting  in  his 
library  can  tell  you  how  politics  ought  to  be  run;  it 
isn't  so  easy  when  he  gets  out  into  it.  And  you  can't 
judge  politics  by  one  year's  experience.  However  — " 

He  stopped  long  enough  to  put  on  his  hat. 

:'  You  went  out  of  your  way  to  denounce  me.  You 
took  a  time  when  I'm  needing  friends  to  do  it,  too. 
In  spite  of  that  I  made  you  an  offer  in  good  faith. 
If  there's  anything  in  you,  I'd  have  given  you  the 
chance  to  prove  it. 

"  I,"  he  concluded,  and  he  spoke  as  of  some  divine 
edict,  fixed  and  immutable,  "  I  rarely  offer  friendship 
to  those  who  fight  me  —  never  twice." 

He  went  out. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

WITH    A    GREAT    PRICE 

THE  East  Ridge  colony  was  gone,  scattering  its 
charms  broadcast  from  Lakewood  to  Bar  Har 
bor.  Only  the  Hampdens  were  left  and  they  were 
soon  to  depart,  Katherine  and  her  mother  to  go  abroad 
for  the  latter's  health  —  which,  to  be  sure,  was  so  good 
as  to  be  worth  preserving.  John  and  Haig  had  ar 
ranged  to  make  together  their  farewell  pilgrimage  to 
the  Ridge. 

That  evening  John  spent  a  great  deal  of  care  over 
his  toilet.  It  could  not  have  been  out  of  vanity,  since 
he  surveyed  very  dubiously  the  results  reflected  in 
the  mirror,  and  since  Miss  Roberta  had  lately  been 
taking  him  to  task  for  his  careless  dressing.  She  had 
merely  sniffed  when  he  gravely  informed  her  that  it 
did  not  behoove  a  politician  to  be  too  nattily  attired. 
This  evening,  however,  when  she  carefully  inspected 
him,  she  was  pleased  to  approve,  and  smilingly  sped 
him  on  his  way.  She  did  not  need  to  inquire  whither 
that  way  led. 

He  drove  to  the  home  of  Silas  Hicks,  where  Haig, 
wisely  avoiding  the  hospitality  of  the  hotel,  had  his 
rooms.  Somewhat  to  his  dismay  he  was  informed 
that  Haig  had  discovered  some  mysterious  errand 
requiring  his  attention,  had  departed  a  half  hour 
earlier  and  had  left  word  that  he  would  later  meet 

192 


WITH  A  GREAT  PRICE  193 

John  at  their  Mecca.  Mrs.  Hicks  did  not  say, 
"  Mecca."  In  New  Chelsea  it  is  a  landlady's  preroga 
tive  to  know  the  comings  and  goings  of  her  guests. 

"  That's  funny,"  muttered  John  as  he  drove  away. 

It  had  been  one  of  those  oppressive  days  which  Sep 
tember  often  brings,  and  in  the  valley  the  sultriness 
lingered.  As  his  horse  slowly  climbed  the  Ridge 
Road,  where  some  air  was  stirring,  John  ought  to  have 
felt  relief.  But  he  was  decidedly  uncomfortable. 
He  strongly  suspected  the  validity  of  Haig's  errand 
and  debated  seriously  the  advisability  of  turn 
ing  back  and  sending  his  farewells  by  note,  pleading 
as  excuse  for  his  non-appearance  some  unexpected 
business  matter.  He  solemnly  assured  himself  that 
he  was  a  fool,  both  for  having  dallied  with  unhappi- 
ness  all  summer  and  for  going  now  on  a  journey  that 
could  only  intensify  futile  longings. 

He  sustained  the  indictment  by  continuing  his  jour 
ney. 

Unmindful  of  the  heat,  Stephen  Hampden  was 
pacing  swiftly  up  and  down  the  terrace.  He  was  in 
a  very  irritable  mood.  He  had  that  day  received  a 
message  that  a  "  pool  "  in  which  he  was  interested 
had  unexpectedly  gone  to  smash.  It  was  not  a  fatal 
matter,  but  he  hated  to  lose  money.  His  cigar  blinked 
rapidly.  When  John,  having  entrusted  his  modest 
"  rig  "  to  the  groom,  appeared  on  the  terrace,  Hamp 
den  confronted  him. 

"  Good  evening!  "  said  John  pleasantly. 

"Evening!"  growled  Hampden.  "Where's  that 
crazy  Haig  who's  always  tagging  around  with  you  ?  " 

"  Isn't  he  here  ?  He'll  be  along  later,  then  —  had 
some  errand." 


I94  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

"  I  suppose  you  want  to  see  Katherine?  "  Hamp- 
den's  tone  was  so  ungracious  that  John  flushed. 

"Have  you  any  objections?"  he  asked  quietly. 

Hampden  stared.  "Objections?  Lord,  no!  D'you 
think  I'm  a  fool  and  you  the  hero  in  a  dime  novel? 
Katherine  sees  whoever  she  wants,  whether  I  like 
it  or  not.  Does  that  mean  you're  on  a  love-making 
expedition  ?  Much  good  may  it  do  you !  "  he  grunted. 
"  You're  not  my  style,  but  I'm  not  worrying.  She's 
my  daughter  —  you  get  that?  And  Don  Quixotes 
have  gone  out  of  fashion."  Hampden  spoke  with 
more  confidence  than  he  felt,  but  John  could  not  know 
that. 

John  withheld  the  retort  that  sprang  to  his  lips. 
While  they  stood  there  in  a  silence  that  was  exceed 
ingly  awkward  for  him  Katherine  appeared  around 
the  corner  of  the  house.  She  greeted  him  very 
kindly. 

"Talking  to  father?  I'm  sorry  for  you,"  she 
laughed.  "  He's  cross  as  a  bear  to-night."  Hamp 
den  gave  a  good  imitation  of  that  ill-natured  animal's 
growl  and,  wheeling,  resumed  his  pacing. 

"  Suppose,"  she  suggested  to  John,  "  we  find  a  cool 
place.  It's  so  hot  indoors.  Mother  thinks  she  is  worn 
out  and  won't  be  down." 

John  assented,  thinking,  uncomfortably,  that  he  was 
alone  with  her  for  the  first  time  since  their  moonlight 
ride.  He  searched  through  the  dusk  for  signs  of 
Haig.  They  strolled,  Katherine  chatting  unconcern 
edly,  to  a  seat  in  a  retired  corner  of  the  grounds, 
—  only  the  fact  would  not  have  been  significant  to 
John  —  where  she  had  sat  so  long  after  her  ride  with 
Warren  Blake. 


WITH  A  GREAT  PRICE  195 

She  leaned  back  in  one  end  of  the  seat.  He  sat  at 
the  other,  as  far  away  from  her  as  he  could,  half 
facing  her.  .  .  .  She  was  not  really  beautiful  — 
her  features  were  too  firm  for  that  —  yet  even  an 
other  than  John  might  have  been  excused  for  think 
ing  her  so  in  the  softening  light  of  the  rising  moon. 
She  was  wearing  a  gown  of  some  soft  pale-green 
stuff  that  did  not  hide  the  graceful  lines  of  her  figure. 
The  filmy  scarf  that  she  wore  merely  called  attention 
to  the  smooth  white  of  her  neck  and  shoulders.  Her 
hair,  never  conforming  to  the  absurdities  of  style,  was 
braided  in  the  simple  fashion  that  best  became  her. 
Only  her  eyes,  softly  lustrous  in  the  pale  light,  marked 
her  suppressed  excitement.  Her  arm,  bare  to  the 
elbow,  rested  on  the  back  of  the  seat;  he  saw  its  easy 
grace,  the  gentle  curve  of  the  relaxed  fingers. 

He  shifted  uneasily.  "  I  wonder  where  that  Haig 
is?" 

"  You're  very  solicitous  for  your  new  friend.  Do 
you  know,  I'm  rather  jealous  of  your  attractiveness. 
He  came  up  here  presumably  to  be  near  us  —  and  he 
has  found  you  far  more  interesting. —  I  suspect  he's 
not  coming  to-night.  I  fancy,"  she  laughed  dar 
ingly,  "  he  rather  thinks  there's  something  between 
us." 

"  There  isn't,  of  course." 

"Of  course!  So  there's  no  reason  why  you 
shouldn't,  at  least,  sit  more  comfortably."  He  man 
aged  a  short  laugh.  "  Do  you  realize  this  is  the  first 
time  we've  been  alone  this  summer?  You  have  really 
managed  it  very  awkwardly."  As  though  she  had 
not  done  all  the  managing ! 

He  had  nothing  to  say. 


196  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

"Am  I  such  an  ogress?  Or  have  you  been  afraid 
that  I'd  propose  to  you  again?  " 

"  I  haven't  been  fool  enough  to  take  that  seriously," 
he  said  quickly.  "  And  I'm  old  enough  to  know  the 
danger  of  playing  with  fire.  At  least,"  he  added,  "  I 
ought  to  have  known  it." 

"Am  I  fire,  then?" 

"  I  think  I'd  better  go  home,"  he  muttered. 

"You're  not  afraid  of  me,  are  you,  John?" 

"  No  —  but  I  see  no  good  in  adding  to  one's  un- 
happiness." 

"  Ah!     Do  I  mean  that  to  you?     I  —  I  am  sorry." 

.  .  .  He  did  not  go.  He  sat,  staring  straight 
ahead  of  him.  It  was  true,  he  was  not  afraid  of 
her.  But  he  could  not  help  thinking  of  the  months 
to  come  when,  with  less  engrossing  tasks  to  take  his 
mind  from  the  ache,  he  must  renew  the  loneliness, 
grown  more  poignant,  of  the  last  winter.  He  won 
dered  now  at  his  weakness  in  letting  himself,  despite 
his  knowledge  of  her  and  of  what  she  meant  to  him, 
be  drawn  again  within  the  circuit  of  her  charm. 

He  became  aware  that  she  was  speaking,  with  that 
amazing  courage  which  was  always  hers. 

"  I  am  sorry,"  she  repeated.  "  I  haven't  been  fair 
to  you.  I  overheard  what  father  said  to  you.  And 
it's  true,  what  he  meant  when  he  said  I  am  his  daugh 
ter.  The.  things  he  works  for  are  what  appeal  to  me, 
not  the  things  you  dream  of.  The  prestige,  the  power 
—  yes,  the  luxury  —  the  knowledge  that  I  belong  to 
the  men  who  are  conquering,  not  dreams  or  ideals, 
count  with  me.  It  isn't  very  pretty,  is  it,  from  your 
point  of  view?  But  it's  true.  I  —  I  could  wish  it 
were  different.  Last  summer  it  was  differ- 


WITH  A  GREAT  PRICE  197 

ent.  I  was  trying  to  decide  what  I  wanted.  Since 
one  can  not  have  everything,  one  must  choose  the 
things  that  mean  most  to  one.  I  —  I  have  always 
been  more  or  less  in  love  with  you,  ever  since  I  can  re 
member.  And  I  saw  you  were  beginning  to  care.  I 
unsexed  myself,  I  pursued,  to  learn  whether  you  were 
what  I  wanted.  I  tried  to  believe,  to  make  you  be 
lieve,  that  I  could  have  you  and  the  rest.  And  I  don't 
greatly  blame  myself  for  that.  Because  I  am  a 
woman,  must  I  sit  passively  by  and  wait  for  happi 
ness  to  come?  ...  I  was  drifting  between  two 
ideals,  but  —  struggling  against  it,  of  course  —  to 
ward  you.  Do  you  know,  it's  your  fault  I  didn't  drift 
further?  You  wouldn't  take  me.  You  made  a  mis 
take  the  night  of  that  rally  —  being  so  finical  in  your 
notions  of  a  poor  man's  honor.  You  ought  to  have 
taken  me  in  your  arms  and  made  me  go  to  you.  I 
should  have  gone  —  gladly  —  faithfully,  too.  .  .  . 
But  you  wouldn't." 

He  listened  unresponsive  to  her  words  that,  halting 
sometimes,  fell  in  low,  measured  tones  with  a  curious, 
underlying  regret  fulness.  Her  words  could  not  add 
to  desire,  nor  the  knowledge  that  he  had  mistakenly 
held  back,  deepen  sadness.  He  wondered  dully  if  that 
were  true:  that,  had  he  taken  her,  she  would  have 
gone  to  him? 

".  .  .  Now  it  is  too  late.  I've  had  time  to 
think,  to  weigh  you  against  the  other  things.  Last 
winter  taught  me  how  much  they  mean  to  me.  And  I 
find  you  —  wanting.  This  summer  has  not  changed 
that.  What  you  ask  costs  too  much." 

"  I  ask  nothing." 

"  True !     I  forget  —  you  ask  nothing.     Last  sum- 


^198  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

mer  you  need  not  have  asked.  You  will  do  me  the 
credit  to  remember  that  I  ask  you  nothing  that  would 
cost  more  than  you  are  willing  to  pay." 

"  That  isn't  true,"  he  said  in  sudden  roughness. 
"  You  —  it  is  why  I'm  a  fool  for  having  come  near  you 

—  are  tempting  me  with  every  word  you  speak." 
"Am  I  tempting  you,  I  wonder?"     Her  voice  be 
came  uncertain.     "I  —  I  beg  you  to  believe  that  I 
haven't  meant  it  —  to  remember  that  I  shouldn't  be 
good  for  you.     I  have  no  wish  to  —  to  be  a  Delilah." 

The  tremor  in  her  voice  set  him  to  trembling.  He 
saw  the  hand  lying  in  her  lap  clench  tightly.  He 
raised  his  eyes  to  hers,  holding  them  greedily.  She 
made  a  sudden  shrinking  movement  away  from  him, 
as  though  what  she  saw  in  his  was  overcoming  her 
resolution.  .  .  .  Then  —  without  conscious  in 
tention  —  he  was  holding  her  in  a  close,  rough  clasp 
and  crying  to  her  to  go  with  him.  She  did  not  re 
sist  and  she  did  not  respond.  She  lay  inert  in  his 
arms,  passively  suffering  his  hot  kisses,  her  eyes 
closed,  her  face  white. 

"My  dear,  my  dear!  Don't  you  see?  You're 
fighting  against  the  thing  that  means  your  happiness. 
These  other  things  that  seem  so  big  and  beautiful  now 

—  in  the  end  they'll  seem  small  and  worthless  beside 
the  one  supreme  thing  that  you  want,  that  you  need. 
I'm  not  afraid  to  ask  now,  for  I  know  I  can  give  you 
far  more  than  you'll  ever  have  otherwise.     And  you 
have  been  listening  to  those  who   don't  understand. 
What  I  want  to  do  isn't  so  terrible.     It  is  very  sim 
ple  —  I  can't  see  why  a  few  are  so  strongly  against  it. 
And  it  doesn't  mean  the  sacrifice  you  think;  already 
it  has  brought  victory  and  the  consideration  of  men 


My  dear,  my  dear!     Don't  you  see?" 


WITH  A  GREAT  PRICE  199 

you  so  much  desire.  In  the  end  —  if  we  have  the 
spirit  to  fight  and  wait  —  it  will  bring  us  a  thing  that 
exceeds  mere  power.  It  doesn't  mean  your  hated 
mediocrity.  My  dear,  can't  you  see  —  it's  your  chance 
to  escape  —  my  dear !  — "  His  stammering  phrases 
halted.  He  became  aware  of  her  closed  eyes,  her  un- 
responsiveness.  She  opened  her  eyes  and  looked 
at  him.  His  rough  clasp  relaxed. 

She  shook  her  head  and  pushed  herself  away,  lean 
ing  back  in  the  seat.  He  did  not  try  to  hold  her.  He 
sat  awkwardly  beside  her,  the  arms  that  had  held  her 
falling  heavily,  passionate  eyes  clinging  to  hers. 

"  Ah !  "  she  murmured,  "  I  gave  you  the  cue  for 
that,  didn't  !?...!  am  glad  you  did  it.  But 
it  is  too  late  —  you  can't  make  me  want  you  enough." 

"  It  isn't  too  late,  if  you  care  — " 

"Is  caring  everything?  You  know  it  isn't.  If  it 
were,  you  wouldn't  make  conditions.  You  would  use 
your  brains,  your  talents,  to  work  out  a  career,  you 
would  have  accepted  Senator  Murchell's  offer  — " 

"You  know  of  that!" 

"  We  see  him  often.  Do  you  think  I  haven't  been 
interested  enough  to  find  out  all  about  you?  Senator 
Murchell  is  right  —  you  should  have  taken  his  ad 
vice." 

"You  think  that?"  he  cried.  "Then  you  don't 
care !  " 

"Ah!"  she  said  resentfully,  "you  can  say  that? 
Do  you  think  I  could  unsex  myself,  as  I  have  for  you, 
for  a  fancy?  I —  But  you  wouldn't  understand." 
The  resentment  died  down.  "  If  I  cared  less,  I  could 
risk  more.  You  make  it  all  a  matter  of  sentiment. 
It  is  a  very  practical  matter.  Life  isn't  all  moon- 


200  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

light.  It  is  all  very  beautiful  to  give  one's  life  to  an 
ideal.  And  you're  very  splendid  now  in  the  flush  of 
your  first  victory.  You  would  be  still  splendid  fight 
ing  a  brave  losing  fight  —  while  you  were  young.  But 
when  you  were  a  broken-down,  middle-aged  failure, 
cast  aside,  a  career  out  of  the  question,  do  you  think 
that  I  —  It  wouldn't  be  romantic  then.  I'd  be  al 
ways  looking  up  at  the  men  I  once  knew,  the  men  who 
were  conquering,  doing  big  things,  and  I'd  —  regret. 
And  I'd  hate  you  then." 

"  It  seems,"  he  cried  bitterly,  "  I  inspire  little  confi 
dence.  I'm  told  by  every  one,  before  I  have  tried  long, 
while  I  am  still  winning,  that  I'm  doomed  to  be  a 
failure!" 

"  Now  it  is  you  who  will  not  see."  She  became 
more  gentle.  "  Do  you  think  I  could  care  for  a  weak 
ling?  It  isn't  you  we  distrust,  but  your  ideal.  I 
know  more  of  politics  than  I  did  a  year  ago.  I've 
read  everything  I  could  find  and  quizzed  all  the  men 
I  know  until  they're  all  laughing  at  my  interest  in  you. 
I  could  bear  that,  because  the  interest  is  real.  And 
I  know  what  every  one  but  you  sees  —  your  dream 
will  get  you  only  disappointment.  No  man  ever  went 
the  way  I  know  you  will  go  in  spite  of  me,  and  found 
anything  but  bitterness.  Even  the  big  men  who  have 
done  the  fine,  good  things  for  this  country  used  the 
forces  they  found  at  hand,  compromised  with  evil  to 
create  good.  And  their  good  stands." 

Suddenly  she  leaned  toward  him  and  placed  a  hand 
on  his  arm.  "  Look,  John !  "  She  pointed  to  the 
North  Star  gleaming  palely  in  the  moonlight.  '  That 
star  is  beautiful  —  but  it  is  very,  very  high.  Can't 


.WITH  A  GREAT  PRICE  201 

you  understand  ?  Ask  me  to  go  with  you  to  the  moun 
tain  top  and  I  will  go,  I  will  help  you  climb;  but 
to  that  star  —  and  I  can't." 

She  had  shaken  him,  as  she  could  always  shake  him, 
set  him  to  questioning  the  real  value  of  the  purpose 
that  through  forces  over  which  he  had  no  control,  as 
it  seemed,  had  grown  until  it  rilled  his  life,  excluding 
all  else.  Her  face,  as  she  leaned  toward  him,  seemed 
very  beautiful.  In  her  eyes  was  the  added  luster  of 
waiting  tears.  Her  hand  still  rested  on  his  arm, 
yet  he  found  strength  to  answer: 

"  You've  said  it  yourself  —  caring  isn't  every 
thing." 

She  remained  in  the  same  eager  posture  for  a  mo 
ment,  as  though  waiting  for  other  words  to  fall;  but 
none  came.  Her  hand  fell  from  his  arm.  She  sat 
back,  sighing.  He  leaned  forward  and  buried  his  face 
in  his  hands.  Around  them  rose  the  shrilling  of  the 
crickets  and  the  whispering  of  the  leaves,  in  the  night 
hymn.  Once  it  had  been  to  them  a  glad,  inspiring 
song ;  now  they  heard  no  music  in  it.  For  a  time  that 
seemed  to  be  endless  they  sat  thus. 

At  last  he  got  to  his  feet,  slowly.  She,  too,  rose. 
He  stood  gazing  away  over  the  hills,  face  uplifted 
to  the  moonlight,  as  though  he  beheld  some  transfig 
uring  vision;  he  seemed  almost  to  have  forgotten  her. 
With  a  sudden  jealous  contraction  of  her  heart  she 
realized  how  little  of  the  grief  she  had  thought  to  see 
was  in  his  look.  Strength  was  there,  the  strength  to 
suffer  and  to  withstand;  and  something  else,  almost 
a  glow,  the  reflection  of  a  spirit  handed  down  to  this 
man  across  the  generations  from  an  age  of  martyrs 


202  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

who  were  glad  to  pay  for  their  faith.  With  a  great 
price  he  was  paying  for  his  faith,  and  it  became  the 
more  precious  to  him. 

She,  with  her  narrow  experience  among  those  to 
whom  consecration  is  a  meaningless  word  and  martyr 
dom  a  consummation  devoutly  to  be  shunned,  under 
stood  but  dimly.  It  meant  little  to  her;  yet  she  saw 
enough  to  know  that  the  clean-minded,  sunny-tem 
pered  young  man  whom  she  had  touched  had  passed 
beyond  her,  was  then  proof  against  her  lure.  In  after 
years,  when  understanding  had  come,  she  would  often 
think  wonderingly  upon  him  as  he  stood  there,  a  Naz- 
arite  undefiled,  listening  with  soul  finely  sensitive  to- 
his  call. 

She  found  the  need  to  justify  herself  before  him. 

"  At  least,"  she  said  unsteadily,  "  you  will  remem 
ber  that  I  didn't  pretend  until  it  was  too  late  for  you 
to  escape  me,  and  then  worry  you  into  going  my  way, 
as  many  women  have  done.  I'm  not  quite  so  selfish 
as  that. —  Am  I  wholly  contemptible?" 

He  judged  her  generously. 

"  You  aren't  contemptible.  It  is  only  that  you  don't 
love.  Love  doesn't  haggle  or  try  to  drag  down.  You 
have  mistaken,  honestly  mistaken,  something  else  for 
it.  If  you  cared  —  but  you  don't.  You  will  find  that 
out  soon." 

For  a  little  she  looked  at  him  unwaveringly.  Then 
her  strength  seemed  to  wilt. 

"  You  are  right,  I  suppose.  And  I  have  missed  a 
great  deal." 

She  turned  and  walked  wearily  toward  the  house. 
He  followed,  one  pace  behind  her.  At  the  terrace  she 
stopped,  whispered  "  Good-by,"  and  went  in. 


BOOK  TWO 
FIGS  AND  THISTLES 


CHAPTER  XV 

LOCUSTS  AND  WILD  HONEY 

A  SON  of  the  old  regime,  returning  to  New  Chel 
sea  after  four  years,  would  have  found  vast 
changes  wrought.  To  begin  with,  he  could  have  come 
on  the  express,  and  he  would  have  alighted  at  the  new 
yellow-brick  station.  Probably,  being  human,  he 
would  have  succumbed  to  the  representations  of  the 
uniformed  Jehu  and  been  whirled  in  the  highly 
varnished  'bus,  over  paved  streets,  to  the  new  five- 
story  hotel,  where  a  room  with  bath  could  be  had. 
The  business  "  block  "  had  expanded  into  a  "  section." 
A  prodigal  quantity  of  paint  had  given  the  older  town 
the  air  of  having  donned  its  Sunday  best.  To  the 
north,  in  Blake's  first  addition,  stood  many  new  dwell 
ings,  more  or  less  smart,  homes  of  toilers  in  Plum- 
ville  who  traveled  to  and  from  their  vocations  on  the 
trolley  and  on  the  way  read  in  the  daily  Globe  the 
news  of  "  our  city  "  and  of  the  world.  The  summer 
colony  on  East  Ridge  had  passed  beyond  the  experi 
mental  stage  and  become  a  sure  source  of  pride  and  , 
income  to  New  Chelsea.  Only  the  court-house  square 
and  the  colonial  mansion  across  Main  Street,  touched 
by  the  pathos  with  which  landmarks  of  old  regimes 
are  always  invested,  had  escaped  the  hand  of  trans 
formation. 

Nor  was  the  prosperity  thus  attested  merely  the 

205 


206  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

crumbs  from  the  table  of  thriving  Plumville.  It  was 
all  New  Chelsea's  own  and  it  had  come  by  the  avenue 
of  Stephen  Hampden's  speculation.  For  the  coal 
company,  despite  the  rules  of  the  game,  was  a  success 
for  all  concerned;  already  it  was  paying  dividends. 
Hence  the  lifting  of  many  mortgages  and  the  build 
ing  of  new  barns  in  the  townships.  One  who  had  re 
fused  a  share  in  that  epoch-making  promotion  often 
thought  with  secret  chagrin  upon  the  fallibility  of  his 
judgment. 

But  a  great  deal  more  than  a  "  boom  "  can  happen 
in  four  years.  That  number  of  cycles  saw  William 
Murchell's  power  shaken,  totter  and  crash  to  the  earth. 

Ministries  have  been  resuscitated,  if  not  resurrected 
from  the  grave.  But  it  is  indubitably  true  that  there 
was  a  period  during  which  Murchell's  hands  held  not 
the  reins  of  power.  Most  people  credited  this  fact  to 
the  craft  of  Mark  Sherrod,  state  treasurer  and  the 
new  minister,  and  his  able  lieutenant,  Governor  Par- 
rott.  Murchell  would  have  placed  the  credit  —  or 
blame  —  elsewhere.  Had  he  had  the  habit  of  dis 
cussing  his  mistakes,  he  would  have  added  a  year  to 
our  calculation  and  said  that  the  initial  blow  had  been 
struck  at  his  power  when  on  a  certain  June  day,  in 
company  with  Jim  Sheehan,  he  had  sought  to  press  a 
bright-faced  young  man  into  his  service.  It  was  well 
he  did  not  give  voice  to  such  an  opinion ;  probably,  as 
illustrating  his  failing  powers,  it  would  have  precipi 
tated  the  crash.  The  young  man  himself  would  have 
smiled  skeptically. 

If  it  was  your  good  fortune  to  be  a  resident  of  New 
Chelsea  at  that  time,  you  will  remember  how  John 
Dunmeade  appeared  when  he  was  thirty-five.  A 


LOCUSTS  AND  WILD  HONEY         207 

grave,  quiet  man  looking  older  than  his  years,  as  care 
lessly  dressed  as  men  are  apt  to  be  who  are  dreaming 
of  big  things.  His  hair  was  beginning  to  thin  at  the 
temples.  The  gray-green  eyes  were  set  deeper  in  their 
sockets,  over  which  the  heavy  brows  hung  lower.  His 
wide  orator's  mouth  was  less  mobile  than  it  had  been 
when  he  set  out  to  destroy  an  institution.  He  walked 
with  a  slight  stoop  and  with  less  spring  —  the  long, 
slow  stride  of  a  man  who  thinks  much  on  his  feet. 

If  you  stopped  to  speak  to  him,  he  would  smile 
pleasantly  and  chat  cheerfully,  in  a  voice  from  which 
much  speaking  in  open  air  and  draughty  halls  had 
taken  the  "  silver,"  about  the  weather  or  the  state  of  the 
crops,  or,  if  you  gave  him  the  opening,  very  earnestly 
about  politics.  He  made  it  a  point,  however  unhap 
pily  his  Cause  was  progressing,  never  to  seem  down 
cast.  You  would  leave  him,  probably  thinking  it  a 
pity  that  such  an  attractive  man  should  be  so  unprac 
tical  and  the  object  of  so  many  bitter  and  powerful 
enmities.  Express  this  thought  to  the  next  passer-by, 
and  you  would  be  answered  with  a  shrug  of  indiffer 
ence,  angry  denunciation  or  cautious  defense,  repre 
senting  the  divisions  of  public  opinion.  If  the  truth 
must  be  told,  New  Chelsea  was  more  than  a  little  dis 
appointed  in  John  Dunmeade. 

His  health  was  not  always  good.  He  had  suffered 
a  serious  illness  during  one  winter  and,  between  the 
duties  of  office,  the  cares  of  a  growing  private  prac 
tice  and  the  incessant  labors  of  politics,  his  body  had 
been  sadly  overtaxed.  He  was  still  district  attor 
ney,  last  trophy  of  the  reform  wave  that  had  swept 
over  the  shattered  machine.  He  had  suffered  many 
disillusionments.  The  ticket  nominated  so  easily  and 


208  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

subsequently  elected  had  proved  a  disappointment;  its 
mutual  jealousies,  conceited  unreasonableness  and  sus 
ceptibility  to  machine  blandishments  had  aroused  a 
general  disgust.  Under  the  leadership  of  Greene,  an 
ex-gambler  and  former  lieutenant  of  Sheehan,  less 
obviously  the  brute  and  far  shrewder  than  the  deposed 
boss,  the  Plumville  organization  had  risen  from  its 
ashes.  New  Chelsea  and  the  townships  remained  di- 
minishingly  loyal  to  John,  but  with  the  majorities  from 
Plumville,  which  had  sunk  back  into  characteristic 
lethargy,  Greene  had  recaptured  all  the  county  offices, 
except  when  John,  a  candidate  for  reelection,  had 
won  through  personal  popularity  and  by  scant  margin 
for  himself  what  he  could  not  obtain  for  his  other  can 
didates. 

Politics  is  a  hard  taskmaster.  John  found  poor 
compensation  in  the  fact  that  he  had  become  well 
known  throughout  the  state.  The  year  after  the  Ben- 
ton  County  reform  he  had  joined  himself  to  the  cause 
of  Judge  Gray,  an  honest  and  capable  lawyer  who 
dared  to  ask  the  Republican  nomination  for  governor 
against  the  organization's  choice.  With  the  judge 
John  made  a  vigorous  stumping  campaign  in  every 
county  of  the  state.  He  was  new,  he  was  enthusias 
tic,  he  was  daring.  People  listened.  Parrott  was 
nominated  easily  according  to  the  "  slate."  But  here 
and  there,  especially  in  the  farm  counties,  interest  had 
been  awakened  in  the  young  fellow  who  spoke  so  well 
and  so  forcefully.  A  few  even  carried  interest  to 
the  extreme  of  thinking  seriously  of  what  he  had 
said. 

Judge  Dunmeade  was  not  nominated  to  the  su 
preme  court  that  year;  hence  the  breach  of  a  lifelong 


LOCUSTS  AND  WILD  HONEY         209 

friendship,  increased  bitterness  against  his  son  and 
many  I-told-you-sos  from  Miss  Roberta. 

Before  long  others  began  to  take  an  interest  in  the 
man  who,  "  crazy  as  Jerry  Brent,"  so  persistently  at 
tacked  the  bosses  of  his  party,  who  spoke  and  wrote  in 
season  and  out,  preaching  his  gospel  of  political  right 
eousness.  The  interest  was  not  always  friendly.  Oc 
casional  ironical  editorials  appeared  with  him  as  the 
target ;  politicians  sneered  at  him ;  nasty  rumors,  which 
after  a  few  futile  attempts  he  ceased  to  answer,  bobbed 
about  concerning  his  personal  life. 

But  John  preached  on.  He  did  more  than  attack; 
he  devised  and  proffered  remedies  with  a  naive  dis 
regard  of  the  conservative  habit  of  the  American  mind 
that  incited  mirth  in  some,  apprehension  in  others  and 
bewilderment  in  still  others.  He  was  not  narrow; 
when  other  Voices  devised  other  remedies,  he  cheer 
fully  substituted  them  for,  or  added  them  to  his  own. 
"  Dunmeade's  platform "  became  a  standing  joke 
among  the  politicians.  It  is  not  necessary  here  to 
enumerate  its  articles.  They  have  since  become  re 
spectable. 

His  understanding  of  politics  was  far  deeper  than 
when  he  chose  a  smooth,  round  pebble  for  his  sling 
and  went  forth  to  slay  a  giant.  He  now  saw  beyond 
the  champion  into  the  Philistine  camp.  He  was  learn 
ing,  in  common  with  other  young  iconoclasts,  some 
thing  of  the  existence  and  character  and  aims  of  the 
personal  government  which  lay  behind  the  formal, 
and  of  the  marvelously  woven  system  by  which  the 
dominant  personalities  twisted  the  form  of  govern 
ment  to  their  purpose.  Being  a  young  man  who 
thought  himself  inspired,  he  was  aghast  —  and  the 


2IO 

more  determined  to  destroy  that  system.  Not  wholly 
lacking  a  sense  of  proportion,  he  realized  the  temerity 
of  him  who  undertook  such  wholesale  destruction. 

But  his  youthful  optimism  had  not  failed,  and  he 
had  evolved  a  simple  theory  from  which  neither  at 
tack,  argument  nor  failure  could  lure  him.  The  peo 
ple  were  really  good  and  supremely  desired  good ; 
political  and  social  ills  were  accidents  and  existed  only 
because  of  popular  ignorance  of  their  import;  the  ills 
in  question  were  extremely  evident  to  any  one  looking 
in  their  direction.  Ergo,  all  that  was  necessary  was 
to  call  the  people's  attention  to  the  machine  and  its 
relation  to  wealth,  and  the  people  would  do  the  rest; 
an  enlightened  public  conscience  was  an  invincible 
and  unerring  force.  His  task  was  to  expound  the 
machine  to  the  people  of  his  state. 

He  was,  it  must  be  confessed,  rather  staggered  at 
times,  receiving  some  fresh  evidence  of  the  reluctance 
of  the  public  conscience  to  be  enlightened. 

Nevertheless  he  held  on.  And  he  used  characteris 
tic  means.  Compromises  and  deals  he  rejected  as 
scornfully  as  he  had  rebuffed  Murchell.  His  weapon 
was  truth;  its  brightness  must  not  be  stained  nor  its 
edge  dulled  by  dalliance  with  evil!  For,  he  said, 
grapes  do  not  grow  on  thorns  nor  figs  on  thistles. 

Always  he  saw  victory  just  one  year  ahead. 

In  those  days  —  to  be  exact,  three  years  after  the 
destruction  of  the  Sheehan  machine  —  the  political 
seas  began  to  toss  angrily.  Heavy,  ominous  clouds 
hung  over  the  horizon.  There  was  strife  in  the  or 
ganizations  of  both  parties.  Upon  the  devoted  heads 
of  Murchell  and  Duffy,  the  respective  bosses,  hurtled 
abuse  from  strange  quarters.  Anxious  cries  rang 


LOCUSTS  AND  WILD  HONEY         211 

from  the  deck  of  the  ship  Murchell  had  steered  so 
long.  Then  the  storm  burst. 

The  biennial  election  of  a  state  treasurer  was  at 
hand.  There  appeared  to  John  one  day  a  plausible 
gentleman  who  discussed  the  troubled  waters.  He 
was  in  a  state  of  righteous  indignation.  Murchell's 
domination  had  continued  too  long!  Patience  with 
his  tyrannical  ways  had  ceased  to  be  a  virtue.  His 
unfitness  had  been  proved  by  his  breach  of  contract  to 
let  Sherrod  succeed  Beck.  And  he,  the  messenger, 
was  glad  to  say,  in  confidence,  that  those  able  and  dis 
tinguished  patriots  and  leaders,  Mark  Sherrod  and 
Philander  Parrott,  were  organizing  a  revolt  and  pro 
posed  to  make  the  treasurership  nomination  a  test  of 
strength.  And  they  had  commissioned  him  to  urge 
that  other  able,  etc.,  John  Dunmeade,  the  man  who 
had  "  licked  Murchell  in  his  own  backyard,"  to  join 
the  reform.  He  was  deeply  hurt  when  John  refused. 

Haig,  who  also  had  made  New  Chelsea  his  legal 
residence,  invented  sundry  lurid  epithets  to  describe 
John's  folly  and  urged  reconsideration.  John  shook 
his  head. 

"  But  I  thought  you  wanted  to  put  Murchell  out  of 
business  ?  " 

"  Not  Murchell.  I've  grown  past  that.  I'm  rather 
sorry  for  him  just  now.  And  I'd  rather  have  him 
run  things  than  Sherrod.  It's  the  institution  we've 
got  to  destroy  —  as  he  told  me  himself  once.  Noth 
ing's  gained  if  we  substitute  one  boss  for  another." 

"  Then  what  are  you  going  to  do,  my  destructive 
friend?" 

"  Try  to  slip  in  between  them,  I  think  —  put  up  an 
independent  candidate." 


212  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

"  Ouch !  "  Haig's  hands  gave  a  pantomimic  illus 
tration  of  the  grinding  upper  and  nether  millstones. 

"Do  those  gyrations  perhaps  mean  something?" 

"  I'm  thinking,"  Haig  grinned,  "  what'll  happen  to 
you  when  you're  caught  between  them.  There  won't 
be  enough  left  of  you  to  bring  home." 

"  I  suppose  not,"  John  grinned  back. 

Haig  stared.  "  You  suppose  not !  Then  why  the 
devil  are  you  going  into  it  ?  " 

"  Somebody's  got  to  keep  on  fighting,"  John  said, 
almost  shamefacedly;  oft-encountered  skepticism  was 
rendering  him  reluctant  to  put  his  ideals  into  words. 
"  And  there  isn't  likely  to  be  anybody  else." 

"  O  —  sugar !  "  With  which  mild  expletive  Haig 
left  him. 

John  made  his  campaign.  When  the  primaries  had 
been  held,  he  was  himself  astonished  to  discover  that 
nearly  a  quarter  of  the  delegates  chosen  were  pledged 
to  his  independent  candidate. 

He  went  to  the  now  historic  convention.  The  night 
before  it  convened  he  spent  in  his  modest  rooms  try 
ing  to  keep  his  Spartan  band  intact  against  the  two- 
sided  attacks  made  upon  it.  But  he  could  not  give 
the  quality  of  encouragement  they  required.  In  par 
lor  A  of  the  State  Hotel  sat  Murchell  and  in  parlor 
B  of  the  Lochinvar  sat  Sherrod,  recklessly  bidding 
against  each  other  for  votes.  In  thronged,  smoke- 
reeking  lobbies  excitement  —  and  avarice  —  ran  high. 
Men  boasted  almost  openly  of  the  amounts  they  had 
received  for  their  pledges.  The  most  admired  was 
he  who,  slapping  first  one  fat  pocket  and  then  another, 
fatter,  declared,  "  This  is  Murchell  —  and  this  Sher- 
rocM "  Rumors  of  a  coup  d'etat  planned  for  the 


LOCUSTS  AND  WILD  HONEY         213 

morning  were  rife;  and  coups  d'etat  meant  plunder! 
Between  the  two  headquarters  the  delegates,  in  a  sick 
ening  frenzy  of  greed,  hovered  like  flies  between  two 
honey-pots.  Before  daylight  John  learned  that  he  had 
been  used  to  draw  delegates  from  Murchell  for  Sher- 
rod's  purpose;  he  saw  his  band  dwindle  to  a  faithful 
handful. 

When  the  convention  met,  Sherrod  was  in  control. 
After  the  preliminaries  John,  answering  to  the  roll- 
call  of  counties,  placed  his  candidate  in  nomination 
in  a  speech  that  could  hardly  be  heard  for  jeers  and 
cat-calls.  It  was  brought  to  an  abrupt  conclusion  by 
a  yell  from  the  gallery,  "  Sit  down,  sonny.  Only 
money  talks  in  this  convention !  "  Even  the  delegates 
joined  in  the  roar  of  laughter.  And  then  the  coup 
was  accomplished.  The  Parrott-Sherrod  candidate 
was  withdrawn  and  Sherrod  himself  substituted. 
Amid  confusion  that  mounted  almost  to  a  riot  he  was 
nominated.  As  the  chairman  announced  the  result, 
the  tumult  subdued.  All  eyes  sought  Murchell. 
There  was  a  momentary  hush,  as  though  even  the 
greed-sodden  delegates  felt  a  pathos  in  this  overthrow 
of  a  strong  man.  Then  riot  broke  out  anew.  .  .  . 

A  non-partizan  candidate  was  put  up  that  fall. 
John  and  Jerry  Brent  were  most  active  in  his  support. 
They  made  what  was  said  to  be  a  remarkable  cam 
paign.  A  cartoon,  representing  them  as  two  long- 
legged  boys  leaping  over  mountains  and  valleys  and 
scattering  speeches  broadcast  with  both  hands,  did 
not  much  overdraw.  And  in  every  county  they  were 
met  with  tremendous  enthusiasm.  People  flocked  by 
thousands  to  hear  them  and  cheered  themselves  hoarse 
as  the  young  orators  excoriated  the  bosses. 


214  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

John,  who  had  entered  the  campaign  with  little 
thought  of  victory,  found  hope  rising  within  him, 
came  to  believe  they  would  win.  On  the  night  before 
election  he  was  quoted  in  the  newspapers  as  saying 
solemnly,  "  The  people  will  win.  They  have  dis 
cerned  a  principle."  .  .  .  It  is  one  thing  to  se 
cure  an  audience ;  it  is  quite  another  to  get  votes.  On 
election  day  the  people  marched  to  the  polls,  voted  as 
they  had  always  done  and  elected  the  Republican 
ticket  by  a  majority  of  more  than  one  hundred  thou 
sand. 

That  campaign  fixed  John's  place  firmly  in  the  pub 
lic  mind.  This  place,  one  that  a  practical  man  would 
have  thought  twice  before  seeking,  was  won  at  the 
cost  of  much  of  his  buoyant  optimism.  It  almost  cost 
him  his  life  also.  A  heavy  cold  contracted  during  the 
last  days  of  the  campaign  eventually  settled  into  a 
stubborn  case  of  pneumonia.  There  were  many  anx 
ious  days  in  the  Dunmeade  home.  Nor  was  Miss 
Roberta's  anxiety  unshared.  Through  three  consecu 
tive  nights  Hugh  Dunmeade  never  sought  his  couch, 
but  kept  a  constant  vigil  by  his  son's  bedside,  listening 
to  the  painful  breathing  and,  without  protest,  to  the 
reproaches  of  an  inner  voice.  Exposure  in  the  cold 
room  aggravated  his  rheumatism,  but  Miss  Roberta, 
strangely  enough,  did  not  scold  him.  When  the 
Christmas  holidays  arrived  John  was  still  confined  to 
his  room. 

That  winter  Senator  Murchell  varied  his  program 
by  spending  the  congressional  recess  at  his  legal  resi 
dence. 

And  one  Sunday  morning  he  came  face  to  face  with 
the  judge  and  Miss  Roberta  in  the  vestibule  of  the 


LOCUSTS  AND  WILD  HONEY         215 

Presbyterian  Church.  It  was  the  first  meeting  in  more 
than  two  years. 

"Why,  how  do  you  do,  Roberta?"  said  the  sena 
tor.  "  How  are  you,  Judge  ?  " 

There  was  none  of  the  season's  good  will  in  the 
answers. 

"  How  do  you  do?"  echoed  Miss  Roberta. 

"  Good  morning,  sir,"  said  the  judge. 

"  I'm  not  sure,"  smiled  the  senator  genially,  with 
conciliatory  intent,  "  whether  your  greeting,  Judge,  is 
judicial  or  extrajudicial." 

But  the  pun  was  lost  on  his  audience  and  the  olive 
branch  ignored. 

The  judge  glared  glacially.  "  I  should  like  nothing 
better  than  to  meet  you  judicially,  sir." 

"  I  don't  doubt  it,"  replied  the  senator  meekly. 
He  turned  to  Miss  Roberta.  "  How  is  John?  " 

"  He  is  better." 

"  The  doctor  tells  me  he  ought  to  go  South  and 
won't.  If  it's  on  account  of  —  er  —  money  matters," 
the  senator  looked  carefully  out  into  the  street,  "  I'll 
be  glad  to  help  out." 

Miss  Roberta  seemed  to  add  several  inches  to  her 
stature.  "  We  hardly  expected  this  from  you." 

"  This  is  personal  only,"  Murchell  hastened  to  de 
fend  himself.  "  I  wouldn't  lift  a  finger  for  him  po 
litically.  But  I  want  him  to  live  long  enough  to  reap 
the  reward  of  his  folly."  His  tone  implied  that  John's 
life  would  not  be  brightened  by  the  prospect  of  that 
reward. 

"  No,  sir,"  the  judge  put  in  stiffly.  "  If  John  needs 
money,  it  is  my  right  to  provide  it."  It  had  not  oc 
curred  to  him  before  to  exercise  the  right. 


216  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

"Stuff!"  said  the  senator.  "I  know  how  you're 
fixed,  Hugh.  You  can't  afford  it.  I  can." 

"  We  Dunmeades,  Senator  Murchell,  don't  accept 
charity  from  our  political  enemies." 

"  Our  political  enemies !  Have  you  turned  re 
former,  Judge  ?  "  Murchell  inquired  innocently.  "  I 
thought  you  didn't  believe  in  agitation." 

"  At  least,  my  son  is  an  honorable  gentleman,"  the 
judge  retorted.  "  He  doesn't  go  about  deceiving  his 
friends  with  promises  he  has  no  intention  of  keeping." 
Here  the-  judge  certainly  scored. 

"  He  deceived  me.  Or  rather,"  Murchell  corrected 
himself  honestly,  "  he  let  me  deceive  myself." 

"  Both  of  you,"  Miss  Roberta  interpolated,  "  are 
taking  too  much  for  granted.  John  isn't  a  pauper." 

"  His  kind  of  politics  doesn't  cost  much  money." 
Beyond  a  doubt  it  was  a  field  day  for  the  judge. 

"  Maybe  his  kind  isn't  worth  much,"  Murchell  re 
turned  sententiously. 

"If  you  old  children  want  to  stand  here  quarreling 
in  the  house  of  God,  you  may,"  said  Miss  Roberta  im 
patiently.  "  I'm  going  in.  Good  morning,  Will  Mur 
chell." 

The  judge  stiffly  followed  her,  leaving  the  breach 
wider  than  ever.  Neither  gentleman,  we  may  suspect, 
heard  much  of  the  sermon  that  morning. 

Later,  Miss  Roberta  and  her  brother  were  sitting 
before  their  library  fire,  waiting  for  dinner.  Conver 
sation  had  lagged. 

"  Did  you  notice,"  she  broke  the  silence  abruptly, 
"  how  poorly  Will  Murchell  was  looking  this  morn 


ing? 


She  was  astonished  at  the  mildness  of  the  reply. 


LOCUSTS  AND  WILD  HONEY         217 

"  I  was  thinking  of  that,  Roberta.  Do  you  sup 
pose  his  offer  was  his  way  of  holding  out  a  flag  of 
truce  ?  " 

"  I  have  a  suspicion  that  it  was,  Hugh." 

"  I  wonder,"  he  continued,  "  how  far  we  ought  to 
distinguish  between  the  politician  and  the  man?" 

"  The  politician  is  the  man." 

"  Not  always,"  the  judge  contradicted.  "  Often  he 
is  just  the  man  bent  out  of  shape  by  his  environ 
ment." 

"  Humph!     John  isn't  bent  out  of  shape." 

This  was  incontrovertible,  and  the  judge  turned 
the  drift  of  the  discussion.  "  I  wish,"  he  sighed, 
"  they  could  work  in  harmony.  It  looks  as  though 
Sherrod  has  beaten  William.  And  Sherrod  is  a  — 
a  damned  rascal,  Roberta.  It's  a  terrible  condition 
when  the  Republican  party  falls  into  the  hands  of 
such  a  man.  I  suppose,"  he  added  irrelevantly,  "  after 
all,  I'm  not  big  enough  to  fill  a  justiceship." 

"  Can  you  be  as  charitable  to  your  son  ?  "  she  de 
manded. 

"  John,"  declared  the  judge,  with  ill-concealed 
pride,  "  doesn't  need  charity  from  me  or  any  one  else. 
Only  justice.  He's  an  honest  but  misguided  man." 

At  another  time  Miss  Roberta  narrated  the  two 
conversations  to  John.  His  only  comment  was  a 
shake  of  the  head  and,  "If  only  human  nature  could 
be  reduced  to  thumb  rules !  " 

"  It  can't,"  said  Miss  Roberta  wisely.  "  Don't  try 
it." 

"  Haig,"  John  smiled,  "  says  that's  my  weakness  — 
trying  to  explain  and  convince  people  by  the  obvious. 
I'm  sometimes  afraid  he's  right." 


218  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

Others  than  Senator  Murchell  overstepped  a  cus 
tom  to  spend  the  Yule-tide  in  New  Chelsea.  To  John, 
by  way  of  Haig  and  Miss  Roberta,  came  rumors  of  a 
very  gay  House  party  on  the  Ridge  that  had  been  led 
by  some  strange  whim  to  experience  the  novelty  of  a 
country  Christmas. 

John  was  alone  in  his  room  one  day,  reading,  when 
his  aunt,  nose  and  ears  still  tingling  from  the  Decem 
ber  frost,  entered.  In  her  arms  reposed  a  bulky, 
heavily-wrapped  parcel.  Without  explanation  and 
with  an  air  of  deep  mystery  she  knelt  before  the  fire 
and  began  to  undo  the  numerous  wrappings.  At  last, 
to  John's  curious  eyes  was  revealed  an  armful  of  red 
roses.  He  exclaimed  his  pleasure  with  all  the  empha 
sis  demanded  by  the  occasion  and  her  evident  delight 
in  the  offering. 

"  But  where  did  you  get  them  ?  You  haven't  been 
breaking  into  somebody's  greenhouse,  have  you?  Or 
—  my  gracious,  Aunt  Roberta !  —  have  you  taken  to 
beaux  again  ?  " 

She  ignored  both  suggestions  as  beneath  contempt. 

"  I've  been  up  on  the  Ridge." 

"On  the  Ridge!" 

"  Such  goings   on !     Grown-ups   sliding  down  hill 
on    a    bobsled.     And    enjoying    it!"     The    offense 
against  good  taste  evidently  lay  in  the  enjoyment. 

"  Maybe  that's  why  they  do  it,"  he  laughed.  "  Did 
I  understand  you  to  say,"  carelessly,  "  the  flowers 
came  from  up  there?  " 

"  I  went  to  call,"  she  explained,  "  on  Katherine 
Hampden.  They  were  asking  about  you  and  some 
body  suggested  sending  flowers.  So  that  little  Miss 


LOCUSTS  AND  WILD  HONEY         219 

Haines  went  over  the  house  and  got  together  all  they 
had." 

"Oh!" 

"  Katherine  helped  her,"  she  added.  "  She  sug 
gested  it." 

"  That  was  very  good  of  her." 

Miss  Roberta,  still  on  her  knees,  straightened  up 
suddenly. 

"  John,  she  isn't  engaged  yet." 

"  Isn't  she  ?  Now  that's  an  interesting  and  impor 
tant  piece  of  news,"  he  answered  briskly.  "  How  do 
you  know  it  ?  " 

"  I  asked  her." 

"  Undoubtedly,"  he  laughed,  "  you  have  the  cour 
age  of  your  curiosity." 

"  Why  isn't  she  engaged  ? "  Miss  Roberta  de 
manded. 

"  Is  that  a  conundrum  ?  Probably,  I  should  say, 
because  she  hasn't  found  any  one  with  the  required 
combination  of  talents  and  possessions.  Or  it  may 
be  she  has  found  him  and  he  —  let  us  not  be  too  un- 
gallant  —  doesn't  know  it.  Such  things  happen,  you 
know." 

"  John,  it  isn't  too  late  for  you." 

"  It  isn't  too  —  why,  my  gracious !  Aunt  Roberta, 
have  you  been  mistaking  me  all  this  time  for  the  love 
lorn  hero  of  the  melodrammer?  You're  a  very  persist 
ent  person,  I  see.  But  it  was  always  too  late.  She  likes 
nice,  sleek,  prosperous  gentlemen.  Honestly  now, 
you  could  never  fit  that  description  to  me,  could  you  ?  " 
He  laughed  very  heartily. 

She  looked  at  him  keenly,  rose  to  her  feet  and  went 


220  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

down-stairs  to  procure  a  vase  for  the  flowers.  When 
she  returned,  he  was  staring  oddly  at  them.  What 
she  read  in  his  expression  was  not  at  all  mirth.  She 
began  to  fill  the  vase. 

"  Suppose,"  he  interrupted  the  operation,  abruptly, 
"  you  take  the  flowers  down-stairs.  They  —  the  odor 
is  a  little  too  heavy." 

"  I  thought,"  she  said  quietly,  "  your  laugh  was 
overdone.  John,  how  much  had  your  politics  to  do 
with  — it?" 

"  A  little.  She  thinks  I  am  a  fool.  I've  found," 
he  added,  "  that  that  opinion  isn't  peculiar  to  her." 

"  John,"  she  pleaded  wistfully,  "  why  won't  you 
quit?  You've  done  enough." 

"  Down  in  your  heart,  do  you  want  me  to  quit, 
Aunt  Roberta?" 

"  Politics  has  been  the  ruination  of  our  family.  It 
made  your  grandfather  a  scheming,  selfish  hypocrite. 
It's  made  Hugh  a  bumptious,  egotistic  place-seeker 
and  a  disappointed,  saddened  old  man.  And  it's  mak 
ing  you  — " 

"What  is  it  making  me?" 

"  O,  we  Dunmeades  are  all  fools !  " 

"  We  '  Dunmeades  ' !  You  know  you  never  did  a 
foolish  thing  in  your  life,  Aunt  Roberta,"  he  smiled. 

"  Yes,  I  did,"  she  answered  grimly.  "I  —  I  like 
your  kind  of  foolishness." 

Reckless  of  scratching  thorns  and  fragile  stems,  she 
snatched  up  the  roses,  so  roughly  as  to  send  a  shower 
of  crimson  petals  to  his  feet,  and  started  to  leave  him. 
But  he  reached  out  and  caught  her  by  the  arm. 

"  Aunt  Roberta,"  he  said,  with  a  flash  of  the  boy 
ishness  he  had  almost  lost,  "  you're  the  worst  hum- 


LOCUSTS  AND  WILD  HONEY         221 

bug  in  Christendom.  You  think  you're  crabbed  and 
cranky  and  practical,  when  really  you're  just  a  gen 
erous,  great-hearted,  romantic  old  dear.  You  think 
you've  missed  something  big  and  wonderful  and  you're 
afraid  I'm  missing  it,  too.  Maybe  you  have.  Maybe 
I  am.  But  there  are  more  ways  than  one  of  finding 
romance  and  happiness.  Just  because  one  of  them 
fizzles  out  is  no  excuse  for  going  through  life  posing 
the  grand,  gloomy  and  peculiar.  So  leave  me  to  my 
reforming  and  don't  fret  about  me.  I  have  confuted 
all  the  poets.  I  solemnly  declare,  I  am  not  an  un 
happy  man." 

"  Are  you  telling  the  truth  ?  "  she  asked  quietly. 

The  flash  of  boyishness  subsided.  "  I  think  I  am," 
he  answered  gravely. 

But  afterward,  when  she  had  gone,  he  carefully 
gathered  up  the  fallen  petals  and  tossed  them  into  the 
fire.  He  watched  them  quickly  shrivel  and  disappear.. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE    FORERUNNER 

HE  went  South.  The  doctor  had  prescribed  three 
months'  rest.  John  was  back  in  New  Chelsea 
in  one,  preparing  with  dogged  energy  to  begin  a  new 
campaign  against  the  state  machine.  That  the  giant 
he  must  attack  was  now  Sherrod,  not  Murchell,  to  his 
mind  but  increased  the  need  for  fighting. 

The  campaign  that  followed  was  but  a  weary  repe 
tition  of  other  years,  without  the  stimulus  of  hope. 
The  spasm  of  enthusiasm  past,  the  people  had  sunk 
back  into  habitual  lack  of  interest.  Vainly  John 
struggled  to  impress  upon  the  state  the  vitality  of  his 
issue;  toward  the  end  of  the  campaign  close  observers 
began  to  detect  a  tinge  of  personal  bitterness  in  his 
charges  against  Sherrod  and  Murchell.  The  only 
notable  political  feature  of  that  year  was  the  quiet 
contest  within  the  organization  between  the  old  boss 
and  the  new ;  a  struggle  in  which  Murchell  was  forced 
to  yield. 

It  is  easy  enough  to  cite  the  length  of  time  required 
for  the  building  of  Rome.  But  when  a  man  sees  the 
best  years  of  his  life  slipping  away  with  no  accomplish 
ment  ;  when  he  has  suffered  not  only  denunciation  and 
misrepresentation,  which  are  not  easy  to  bear,  but  also 
treachery  and  ridicule,  which  are  harder,  and  misun 
derstanding  and  indifference  from  the  people  he  is 

222 


THE  FORERUNNER  223 

trying  to  serve,  which  are  hardest  of  all;  when  he  has 
seen  a  few  promising  harvests  wither  fruitless  to  the 
earth:  he  needs  more  than  old  saws  to  sustain  his 
courage.  He  can  not  be  greatly  blamed  for  wanting 
sometimes  to  "  chuck  the  game,"  as  Haig  put  it  to 
John  one  evening. 

It  was  early  winter  again.  Haig  and  John  were  in 
the  latter's  office.  The  rows  of  books  and  battered, 
easy  furniture,  lighted  up  by  the  student  lamp  and 
the  fire  in  the  open  iron  stove,  made  a  very  com 
fortable  lounging-place  for  men  who  were  not 
sybaritic  in  tastes,  and  they  often  foregathered  there. 
The  bantering  friendship  between  them,  grown  deeper 
as  the  years  passed,  had  been  worth  more  to  John  than 
he  quite  realized. 

"  Why  don't  you  chuck  the  game  ?  " 

"Politics?" 

"  Yes.  What's  the  use  ?  You've  given  up  the  five 
best  years  of  your  life  for  nothing.  You've  got 
just  far  enough  to  be  hated,  but  not  feared,  by  both 
gangs.  You're  laughed  at  as  a  freak,  denounced  as 
dangerous,  lied  about —  Why,  do  you  know,  the 
other  day  in  the  Steel  City  I  heard  you  were  keeping 
a  woman — " 

John  flushed.     "  There  isn't  any  truth  — " 

"  Don't  I  know  that  ?  But  others  are  willing  to  be 
lieve  it.  We're  all  glad  enough  to  think  ill  of  a  good 
man,  nasty,  greasy  hypocrites  that  we  are,  with  our 
surreptitiously  vicious  lives !  Bah !  "  Haig  spit  dis 
gustedly.  "  And  where's  it  brought  you  ?  Nowhere ! 
You're  further  back  than  you  were  four  years  ago. 
The  novelty's  worn  off,  the  dear  pee-pul's  tired  of 
hearing  you  and  they  believe  that  somehow  you're 


^224  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

worse  than  an  anarchist.  And  you're  even  going 
to  be  kicked  out  of  office  here  next  spring 
• —  do  you  know  that  ?  You're  breaking  down  your 
health.  You're  doing  the  work  of  three  men  and  a 
small  boy  —  for  nothing !  This  county  is  growing  — 
there's  going  to  be  plenty  of  law  business.  And  you 
could  be  the  biggest  lawyer  around  here  —  you  are 
that  now  in  point  of  ability,  though  the  Lord 
knows  where  you  find  time  to  study  your  cases.  Why 
don't  you  chuck  it  ?  " 

John  merely  shook  his  head,  smiling. 

"  I  don't  mean,  to  go  over  to  one  of  the  gangs. 
Throw  the  whole  thing  overboard.  Stick  to  business, 
save  money  and  grow  old  comfortably  and  lazily  in 
stead  of  by  leaps  and  bounds,  as  you  are  now.  Why, 
you're  only  thirty-five  —  and  you  look  forty-five !  " 

"  I  know  all  that.  I  might  think  of  it,  if  there 
was  any  one  to  take  my  place." 

"  Your  place !  What  right  have  you  to  think  you're 
the  Lord's  Anointed  ?  " 

"  None  at  all,  judging  by  my  lack  of  success,  I  sup 
pose." 

"  Exactly !  It  gets  nothing  either  for  you  or  your 
cause.  Serving  the  people  is  the  most  worthless, 
thankless  job  in  the  world." 

"You  besotted  cynic!"  John  laughed.  "What  if 
we  don't  get  any  farther  forward?  We  can't  let  'em 
have  the  state  by  default,  can  we?  And  it  isn't  alto 
gether  thankless.  Once  in  a  while  I  run  into  men  like 
Cranshawe  or  Criswell  or  Sykes.  When  I  see  how 
they  depend  on  me,  I  —  I  have  to  stick  it  out.  It  isn't 
necessarily  worthless,  either.  I've  generally  found 
that  if  you  hold  on  to  the  breaking-point,  and  then 


THE  FORERUNNER  225 

hold  on  a  little  longer,  things  get  easier  all  of  a  sud 
den." 

"  Sunday-school  aphorisms !  When  you're  holding 
on  to  the  tail  of  a  mule  and  it  begins  to  kick,  you 
don't  hold  on,  do  you?  The  trouble  with  you  is,  you 
don't  know  when  you're  kicked  out.  But  I  suppose," 
Haig  growled  his  disgust,  "  there's  no  use  talking  to 
a  fanatic.  What's  to  be  the  next  slaughter  of  the  in 
nocents?  " 

"  We  elect  a  governor  next  year." 

"And  where'll  you  find  a  candidate?" 

"  Well,"  John  said  cheerfully,  "  I  could  run  my 
self,  you  know." 

"  And  offer  'em  more  bread  pills,  eh  ?  "  He  re 
ferred  to  "  Dunmeade's  platform."  Haig  was  trying 
to  decide  whether  he  was  a  socialist  or  not,  hence  was 
critical  of  all  remedies  and  theories. 

"  I  suppose  you  are  thinking  of  your  brotherhood 
as  a  substitute  ?  " 

"  Not  my  brotherhood ! "  Haig  snorted.  "  I 
wouldn't  have  the  dolts  you  call  the  people  as  my 
brothers.  They're  interesting  to  me  only  as  a  study 
in  asininity.  You're  more  of  a  socialist  than  I  am, 
with  your  notions  of  service  and  reward  measured  by 
social  value.  Only  you're  afraid  of  the  name.  No 
wonder  nobody  wants  your  pellets!  If  there's  any 
thing  wrong  at  all,  it's  in  our  vitals  and  requires  real 
medicine.  The  trouble  with  this  nation  is,  we  were 
suckled  on  the  sanctity  of  the  individual,  gilded  self 
ishness.  We've  gone  daft  on  the  rights  of  individual 
strength.  We're  every  man  thinking  only  of  his  own 
desires  —  which  we  call  rights  —  consequently  we 
don't  give  a  hang  about  the  rights  of  other  individuals. 


226  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

What  can  you  expect  of  a  people  whose  very  ideal  is 
concentrated  selfishness?" 

"  But,  Haig,  most  of  us  earn  all  we  get,"  John  in 
terposed  mildly. 

"  More,  man,  more !  But  that's  because  the  strong 
individuals  who  run  things  compel  us  to,  so  they  may 
reap  our  sowing.  We  protect,  make  it  easy  for 
those  men,  because  we  all  think  we're  strong  and  hope 
to  follow  their  example.  We're  afraid  to  cramp  the 
other  fellow  for  fear  we  bind  ourselves.  Your  dainty 
nostrils  are  offended  because  some  men  take  bribes,  oth 
ers  misuse  government  and  a  few  boss  the  rest  of  us. 
And  you  offer  the  initiative, —  direct  primaries,  pub 
licity  of  campaign  funds,  government  control  and 
more  tommyrot!  You  can't  see  that  political  corrup 
tion  is  the  logical,  inevitable  result  in  a  nation  where 
nobody  is  thinking  of  anybody  but  himself." 

"  But  the  people  don't  understand  —  that's  all." 

"  Not  understand !  You  can  say  that !  Do  you 
suppose  there's  an  intelligent  man  in  the  state  who 
doesn't  know  that  you  have  as  much  brains  and  ca 
pacity  for  government,  and  far  more  character,  than 
either  Murchell  or  Sherrod  or  any  of  their  tribe? 
Yet  they  turn  you  down  for  them  every  time.  Why? 
Because  the  Murchells  and  the  Sherrods  represent  the 
people.  You  don't.  Ninety-nine  out  of  a  hundred 
men,  all  over  the  nation,  have  a  pretty  clear  notion  of 
what's  going  on  in  politics  and  government,  and  they 
have  a  rudimentary  social  instinct  that  tells  them  it  is 
wrong.  Sometimes  that  incipient  sense  gets  them  in 
terested  in  a  reform,  but  the  interest  lasts  only  for 
about  one  campaign.  Just  as  you  have  found  it.  We 
don't  really  care.  We  don't  want  things  changed. 


THE  FORERUNNER  227 

Because  politics  as  it  is,  exactly  represents  the  national 
and  personal  ideals  of  the  people.  The  trouble  is,  we 
are  living  in  a  social  state  when  we  can't  think,  much 
less  feel,  socially." 

"But—" 

"  Here,  I  have  the  floor. — Things  are  rotten  — 
yes!  There's  a  stink  in  every  plane  of  our  national 
life.  You  can  better  them  in  two  ways.  You  can 
choose  the  brotherhood  —  and  we  may  put  that  aside 
as  possible  only  after  a  process  of  civilization  as  slow 
as  the  one  that  evolved  that  polished  egoist,  the  Amer 
ican  citizen.  Or  you  can  use  the  means  you  find  to 
hand  —  the  only  way  the  world  has  ever  been  bettered 
—  by  the  big  despots  who  looked  at  means  in  the 
light  of  the  end  and  kicked  the  people  forward.  You 
think  you  have  a  purpose  in  life,  to  clean  up  this 
state  and  help  make  government  in  fact  the  social 
agency  it  is  in  theory.  Well,  then  —  play  the  game 
as  you  find  it,  make  of  yourself  a  despot.  And  when 
you  have  your  power,  use  it  to  win  compromises  from 
the  other  strong  ones,  and  to  give  the  people  just  as 
much  as  they  are  able  to  use  and  enjoy.  Among  a 
selfish  people  only  a  supreme,  practical  egoist  can  lead. 
Selfishness  is  the  only  thing  they  understand,  therefore, 
it  is  the  only  thing  they  will  follow." 

Haig  sat  back,  relighting  his  pipe.  "  Gosh !  "  he 
grinned.  "  Reminds  me  of  my  college  debating  so 
ciety.  But  I  mean  it,"  he  added  earnestly. 

John  smiled  faintly.  He  leaned  forward  and 
caught  up  the  poker,  absently  jabbing  the  coals  in  the 
stove.  The  flames  leaped,  lighting  up  the  thought- 
lined  face,  both  refined  and  strengthened  by  the  years. 
Haig,  whose  business  it  was  to  read  faces,  thought  he 


228  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

saw  in  John's  almost  sadness;  he  wondered  if  the  fu 
tile  battling  had  meant  more  suffering  than  had  ap 
peared.  John  was  thinking  of  another  time  when, 
out  of  her  ignorance,  a  young  woman  had  stumbled, 
far  less  cleverly,  upon  the  same  theory. 

He  stirred  the  fire,  without  speaking,  until  the 
poker  was  red  hot  and  the  dancing  flames  hummed  in 
the  iron  stove.  "Can  you  add  to  that?"  he  said  at 
last. 

"  I  can  elaborate." 

"  You  needn't.  I  have  thought  of  it  all  and  more. 
I  think  you  have  hit  upon  the  root  of  the  matter.  Our 
politics  does  reflect  our  national  aspirations  —  or  lack 
of  them.  And  a  boss  such  as  you  speak  of,  a  man 
who  could  hold  and  use  power  without  succumbing 
to  its  temptations,  could  accomplish  much.  At  least, 
I  think  so ;  we  have  none  of  the  sort.  But  not  all  — 
one  must  build  from  the  bottom  upward.  The  na 
tion  can  be  saved  from  its  sins  neither  by  strong  indi 
viduals  nor  by  mechanical  systems.  Only  by  the 
aroused  moral  sense  of  the  people,  a  realization  and 
acceptance  of  political  responsibility. —  And  a  man 
can't  very  successfully  preach  political  morality  un 
less  he  practises  it." 

Haig  threw  up  his  hands  in  a  gesture  of  desperation. 
"  You're  so  stuck  on  your  job  of  being  a  voice  in  the 
wilderness  that  you  won't  listen  to  common  sense. 
You're  too  infernally  near  perfection  to  be  true.  Will 
you  kindly  step  outside  and  steal  a  chicken  or  cut  a 
throat  or  commit  some  other  little  human  sin  ?  " 

John  did  not  seem  to  notice  the  interruption. 
"  After  all,"  he  said  slowly,  as  though  he  were  think 
ing  aloud,  "  a  man  has  to  serve  in  the  way  for  which 


THE  FORERUNNER  229 

he's  best  fitted.  I  don't  think  I'm  cut  out  for  a  boss, 
Haig.  And  we  can  never  be  a  brotherhood  until  we 
are  made  to  feel  it  —  and  a  few  men  are  willing  to 
live  it." 

Haig  growled  again.  "  Brotherhood  —  piffle ! 
Service  —  who  wants  your  service  ?  What  you  need 
is  some  woman  to  come  along  and  marry  you  out  of 
hand  and  teach  you  common  sense.  Why  didn't  you 
marry  Katherine  Hampden  when  you  had  the 
chance?  " 

"  I  never  really  had  the  chance,"  John  replied 
calmly. 

"  O,  go  to  the  devil ! "  And  with  characteristic 
abruptness  Haig  rose  and  walked  out  of  the  office. 

A  minute  later  he  reappeared,  to  demand,  "  Do  you 
still  want  to?" 

"  Want  to  what  ?  "  said  John,  so  blankly  that  Haig 
again  recommended  the  devil  as  his  ultimate  destina 
tion  and  withdrew. 

Out  in  the  street  he  stopped  long  enough  to  look 
back  through  the  window.  John  was  still  absently 
jabbing  the  coals.  It  seemed  to  the  man  outside  that 
the  hint  of  sadness  in  the  firelit  face  had  deepened,  as 
though  John,  left  alone,  were  facing  and  yielding  to 
the  dejection  he  never  let  others  see.  Haig  shook  his 
head  and  passed  on,  muttering  to  the  snowy  night: 

"  I  have  seen  a  miracle.  A  man  who  has  tested  yet 
believes  in  the  people,  and  who  has  loved  the  same 
woman  through  five  years.  I  wonder  how  long  his 
courage  will  hold  out  ?  " 

John  drew  up  to  the  desk  and  began  a  letter.  It 
did  not  progress  rapidly.  His  pen  had  gone  as  far  as, 
"  Replying  to  your  favor  of  the  2Oth  inst.,"  when  it 


230  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

fell  unnoticed  from  his  fingers.     He  returned  to  his 
contemplation  of  the  fire. 

He  was  thinking  of  Katherine  Hampden.  He  had 
been  thinking  of  her  a  great  deal  lately,  after  a  long 
period  in  which  he  had  kept  the  remembrance  of  her 
in  the  secret,  rarely-opened  chamber  of  his  innermost 
consciousness. 

Strong  men  and  women,  romanticists  to  the  con 
trary  notwithstanding,  do  not  die  from  disappoint 
ment  in  love;  they  do  not  permit  it  to  wreck  their 
lives  nor  even  allow  themselves  the  weak  indulgence 
of  sorrowful  brooding.  They  turn  to  work,  that 
panacea  of  all  ills  of  the  heart,  and  in  absorbing  other 
interests  find  surcease  from  suffering.  Thus  had 
John  ruled  himself  and  he  had  been  amazed  to 
learn,  in  infrequent  moments  of  relaxation  and  self- 
examination,  how  heavy  a  load  a  man  can  carry  with 
out  staggering.  It  did  not  occur  to  him  that  he  might 
find  elsewhere  a  more  fruitful  love. 

It  had  been  the  easier  to  bury,  if  not  completely 
to  forget  the  past,  because  Katherine's  life  and  his 
had  not  often  crossed.  One  summer  she  and  her 
mother  had  been  abroad.  During  other  summers, 
not  wholly  by  design,  he  had  found  it  convenient  to 
be  away  most  of  the  time.  They  had  met  once  in 
New  Chelsea,  a  casual,  brief  meeting  on  the  street  in 
the  presence  of  others.  The  incident  of  the  flowers 
has  been  told.  Another  time  he  and  Haig,  going 
down  to  the  city  for  the  luxury  of  an  evening  of 
opera,  had  seen  her  in  one  of  the  boxes;  he  had  re 
sisted  Haig's  importunities  to  present  themselves. 
And  then  one  day,  a  week  before  the  conversation 
just  narrated,  they  had  accidently  met. 


THE  FORERUNNER  231 

He  was  in  the  Steel  City  to  deliver  his  lecture  on 
Civic  Responsibility  before  one  of  the  reform  bodies 
that  discussed  but  did  nothing  to  alleviate  the  city's 
ills.  For  early  luncheon  he  went  into  a  restaurant 
where  elaborate  trappings  and  service  enabled  the 
patron  to  ignore  the  moderately  well  cooked  food  and 
immoderately  high  prices. 

As  he  was  passing  through  the  foyer,  he  came  face 
to  face  with  Katherine  Hampden  and  another  lady, 
whose  attire  proclaimed  her  one  of  fashion's  elect. 
There  was  a  moment's  hesitation  and  then  impulsively 
Katherine  held  out  her  hand.  Mutual  inquiries  con 
cerning  each  other's  health  followed,  were  satisfac 
torily  answered,  and  Katherine  introduced  him  to 
her  companion.  Mrs.  Deland  nodded  distantly,  as 
from  a  great  height,  down  upon  the  rather  countri 
fied-looking  man  who  carried  the  queer,  black  slouch 
hat. 

"  This  is  the  Mr.  Dunmeade,"  Katherine  explained. 

"  O,  indeed !  "  was  the  murmured  answer,  accom 
panied  by  a  vacuous  smile.  Mrs.  Deland,  it  was 
clear,  had  never  heard  of  "  the  Mr.  Dunmeade." 
Just  then  another  group  entered  the  foyer  and  with 
scant  ceremony  she  escaped  to  join  them. 

Katherine  flushed  slightly  and  her  head  went  up 
a  little  higher  —  defiantly,  John  thought.  "  Cat !  " 
she  said  spitefully.  "You  don't  mind,  do  you?" 

His  answer  was  sufficiently  careless  to  satisfy  her 
on  this  point,  and  the  inquiries  were  extended  to  in 
clude  the  members  of  their  respective  families. 

"  Rose  in  bloom,"  he  thought  with  truth.  He  did 
not  give  the  credit  to  the  beautiful  hat  or  the  per 
fectly  tailored  suit  or  the  expensive  furs.  He  was 


232  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

thinking  only  of  the  woman.  There  was  about  her 
still  the  same  splendor  of  health  and  strength;  also, 
he  told  himself,  a  deeper  womanliness.  In  her  man 
ner  was  more  repose,  less  of  the  suggestion  of  hard 
ness  that,  even  in  moments  when  he  had  most  felt 
her  attraction,  had  been  so  palpable.  He  wondered 
at  it.  He  knew  that  she  had  had  all  those  things 
which  she  desired,  for  which  she  had  chosen  against 
him. 

The  inquiries  were  exhausted.  There  was  another 
moment  of  uncertainty.  John  was  getting  ready  to 
leave,  when  Katherine  —  perhaps  she  saw  the  curious 
glances  from  Mrs.  Deland's  group  —  said  with  a  sud 
den  frank  friendliness,  "  There  isn't  any  reason  why 
we  shouldn't  have  a  nice,  chummy  little  chat,  is  there? 
I  am  not  with  her.  I  am  waiting  for  Mr.  Gregg  — 
who  is  always  late.  Shall  we  sit  down  somewhere  ?  " 

He  assented,  and  they  ensconced  themselves  on  a 
luxurious  davenport  with  which  the  foyer  was 
equipped. 

"  He  is  still  faithful,  you  see,"  she  laughed.  Ob 
viously  she  referred  to  Gregg. 

"  That  is  a  sufficiently  rare  quality  to  be  a  dis 
tinction,  isn't  it?"  His  smile,  she  noted,  if  less  lu 
minous,  was  as  pleasant  as  ever. 

"  In  my  case,  he  is  an  isolated  distinction,  then," 
she  laughed  again.  "  They  are  preparing  to  lay  me 
on  the  shelf.  I  am  almost  twenty-nine,  you  may  re 
member.  And  they  are  beginning  to  put  me  on  boards 
and  committees  and  things  already!" 

"  I  hardly  know  whether  to  call  that  an  exaggera 
tion  or  an  understatement." 

"  It  is  the  literal  truth." 


THE  FORERUNNER  233 

He  did  not  see  how  that  could  be. 

"  O,  very  easily!"  she  assured  him.  "In  spite  of 
old  sayings  about  beauty  being  only  skin  deep,  men 
still  prefer  youth  and  freshness  in  women.  And  their 
idea  of  youth  is  extreme  immaturity.  It  is  suspected 
in  some  quarters  that  I  rouge." 

He  smiled  his  skepticism. 

"  No,  I  don't,  though  no  doubt  I'll  come  to  it  in 
time. —  About  yourself.  You  have  had  some  very 
interesting  experiences,  haven't  you?  I  keep  tab  on 
you  through  the  newspapers.  Only  I  fear  I  don't 
get  a  very  fair  notion  of  what  you  are  doing,  as  I  see 
only  the  Gazette.  Do  you  ever  read  it  ?  " 

"  Sometimes,  as  a  sort  of  penance  for  my  sins." 

"You  have  sins,  then?"  Her  mock  surprise  was 
good. 

"  You  can  read  the  Gazette  and  doubt  it  ?  Very 
many,"  he  replied  promptly. 

"  O,  that  reminds  me !  "  She  became  grave.  "  I 
heard  a  very  unkind  story  about  you  the  other  day. 
It  was  absurd,  of  course.  I  wish  to  say,  I  did  not 
believe  a  word  of  it.  Can't  men  be  just  in  politics?  " 

"  O,  one  gets  used  to  that  sort  of  thing."  He 
thought  of  a  retort  he  might  have  made. 

Apparently  she,  too,  thought  of  it,  for  she  went  on 
hastily.  "  It  was  in  answering  that  story  that  a  man 
paid  you  a  very  fine  compliment.  Ought  I  to  tell 
you,  I  wonder?  Or  do  you  receive  so  many  that  one 
more  wouldn't  interest?" 

"  It  is  when  we  get  few  that  a  compliment  is  dan 
gerous.  I'm  not  sure  —  but  I'll  risk  it,"  he  said 
idly. 

'"'  He  said,  '  A  man  can't  keep  on  preaching  decency 


234  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

as  earnestly  and  bravely  as  Dunmeade  does  unless 
he's  a  pretty  decent  sort  of  chap  himself.'  I  don't 
mind  telling  you  it  was  Mr.  Gregg  who  said  that." 
She  did  not  add  that  it  was  her  father  who,  with 
evident  enjoyment,  had  narrated  the  story,  or  that 
Gregg  had  qualified  his  compliment  with,  "  Of  course, 
he's  a  crank." 

"  That  was  kind  of  Gregg." 

"  He  often  speaks  of  you.  He  admires  you  and  is 
very  much  interested  in  your  —  career.  We  may  call 
it  that,  mayn't  we  ?  " 

"  If  you  can't  think  of  a  better  word."  He  wished 
it  were  not  necessary  to  bring  Gregg's  name  so  often 
into  the  conversation. 

They  talked  for  a  few  minutes  longer,  on  uninter 
esting,  impersonal  subjects  until  they  saw  Gregg  ap 
pear  at  the  entrance.  John  caught  up  the  hat 
Mrs.  Deland  had  eyed  so  uncharitably;  it  was  a  very 
good  hat  of  its  kind.  But  that  lady  effusively  way 
laid  Gregg,  and  there  was  an  awkward  pause  which 
John  did  not  know  how  to  bridge. 

While  they  were  waiting  in  silence  for  Gregg  to 
make  his  escape,  Katherine  said,  on  an  impulse,  the 
wisdom  of  which  may  be  regarded  as  doubtful, 
"  About  what  you  said  of  your  career  —  I  don't  like 
to  hear  you  speak  so  —  so  lightly  of  it.  I  think  you 
have  been  very  brave  and  splendid.  Not  many  men 
would  have  held  out  as  you  have." 

He  was  taken  off  his  guard.  "  I  didn't  expect  you 
to  think  so !  " 

"My  —  my  notions  of  values  and  things  have 
changed  a  good  deal,  I  find.  And  I  —  may  I  go 
on?"  She  looked  at  Gregg;  he  was  still  in  Mrs. 


THE  FORERUNNER  235 

Deland's  clutches.  "  I  was  a  very  selfish,  thoughtless 
girl  —  then.  I  deliberately  —  no,  carelessly,  which  is 
worse  —  jeopardized  your  happiness  in  the  search  for 
my  own.  I  have  been  heartily  ashamed  of  it.  I  — 
I  hope  it  did  not  mean  serious  unhappiness  to  you." 

He  looked  at  her  steadily.  "  I  have  not  been  un 
happy."  Then  he  rose  to  greet  Gregg,  who  had  ex 
tricated  himself. 

The  latter  was  very  cordial.  He  deeply  regretted 
that  John  could  not  join  them  at  luncheon  and  hoped 
that  the  renewed  acquaintance  would  not  be  discon 
tinued.  "  Any  time  you're  in  town,  call  me  up  and 
we'll  lunch  at  the  club.  Any  time,  remember !  " 

But  he  did  not  miss  Katherine's  tone  as  she  said 
to  John,  "Good-by!  And  I  am  very  glad  of  what 
you  have  just  told  me." 

Later,  when  they  were  at  their  table  and  the  waitei" 
—  the  same  who  had  ministered  to  John,  but  ah! 
how  different  his  mien !  —  had  brought  his  cocktail, 
Gregg  remarked,  "  I  like  that  man  Dunmeade.  He's 
the  kind  I'd  be  glad  to  do  a  favor  for,  on  general 
principles." 

"  I  should  think,"  she  said,  "  he  is  the  kind  any 
man  would  be  glad  to  do  a  favor  for.  Then,  why  is 
he  so  unsuccessful?" 

"  O,  that's  simple  —  he's  so  far  ahead  of  his  time. 
That's  a  much  greater  mistake  than  to  be  behind. 
He  is  an  unusual  man.  And  do  you  know,"  Gregg 
sipped  his  cocktail  leisurely,  "  I  have  a  notion  he  is  the 
reason  you  have  kept  me  waiting  so  long." 

Under  his  gaze  the  tinge  of  color  in  her  cheeks 
deepened.  She  made  no  reply. 

"  Does  it  ever  occur  to  you,"  he  asked,  carefully 


setting  down  the  glass,  "  that  I  might  get  tired  of 
waiting?  " 

"  Does  it  ever  occur  to  you,"  she  answered,  "  that 
I  shouldn't  care  very  much  ?  " 

But  of  this  John  could  know  nothing. 

That  was  the  picture  the  dancing  flames  painted 
for  him  —  Katherine  in  the  glory  of  her  full-blown 
womanhood.  He  wished  he  had  not  met  her.  It  was 
true,  he  had  not  been  painfully  unhappy.  But  he 
saw  no  profit  in  reopening  old  wounds. 

The  wish  was  repeated  many  times,  'as  the  winter 
sped  by  and  the  vision  persisted  undimmed. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE   FORK   OF   THE   ROAD 

THE  ceremony  of  exchanging  ministers  was  not 
an  elaborate  court  function.  Fifty-odd  gentle 
men,  representing  each  his  principality,  met  in  a  hotel 
parlor  and  elected  Mark  Sherrod  to  succeed  William 
Murchell  as  chairman  of  the  Republican  state  execu 
tive  committee.  As  the  latter  retired  from  the  chair 
which,  symbol  of  his  undisputed  sway,  he  had  occu 
pied  for  twenty  years,  and  his  enemy  took  his  place, 
there  was  nothing  to  indicate  that  the  seals  of  do 
minion  had  been  formally  transferred.  The  mon 
arch  was  not  present  in  person. 

Many  of  the  committeemen  were  surprised  at  Mur- 
chell's  presence.  They  had  thought  that  he  would 
stay  away  to  escape  the  last  humiliation  of  beholding 
the  formal  ratification  of  his  accomplished  defeat. 
But  he  was  there  and  presided,  grimly  defiant,  over 
the  deliberations  until  his  successor  was  chosen  and 
took  up  the  seals.  Then  he  remained,  an  apparently 
unmoved  spectator  of  the  proceedings,  until  the  meet 
ing  was  adjourned.  Afterward,  first  shaking  hands 
warmly  with  those  who  had  supported  him,  far 
gloomier  than  he  in  his  defeat,  he  went  away  alone. 

He  had  gone  to  the  meeting  in  a  carriage  because 
the  weather  was  rough  and  his  physical  condition 
was  not  good.  But  when  he  left  he  forgot  the  car- 

237 


238  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

riage  and  started  to  walk  to  the  house  that  he  called 
home.  He  walked  aimlessly,  head  lowered  as  though 
he  were  pondering  some  deep  problem.  But  he  was 
not  thinking  profoundly.  He  was  feeling — feeling 
the  weight  of  his  years;  they  had  never  until  recently 
seemed  heavy.  The  defiant  front  that  he  had  main 
tained  before  the  committee  had  been  a  pose.  Not 
that  he  felt  defeat  as  stingingly  as  others  might  have 
supposed;  rather,  it  had  seemed  to  him  a  relief.  He 
was  merely  feeling  old  —  old! 

His  course  took  him  past  a  house  of  state,  where 
the  monarch  sat  enthroned  amid  his  court,  directing 
the  affairs  of  his  kingdom.  What  Murchell  saw  was 
the  office  building  of  the  Atlantic  Railroad.  He 
passed  on,  then  paused  suddenly,  his  face  lighting 
up  with  a  kind  of  humor.  He  would  go  back  and 
enter,  boldly  and  openly  as  he  had  never  before 
dared  to  go,  into  the  royal  presence.  He  retraced 
his  steps,  entered  an  elevator  and  was  rapidly  hoisted 
to  the  proper  story.  A  page  of  ebony  skin  took  his 
card. 

Murchell  did  not  have  to  wait  long.  Soon  he  was 
before  his  former  liege. 

"  How  are  you,  Senator?  " 

"How're  you,  Sackett?" 

Their  hands  met,  to  part  instantly.  Murchell  took 
the  chair  indicated  by  the  royal  gesture. 

The  royal  brow  wrinkled.  "  Isn't  this  a  little  in 
discreet —  considering  the  present  state  of  public 
sentiment  ?  " 

"  What  difference  does  it  make  —  now  ?  I've  just 
come  from  the  committee  meeting." 


THE  FORK  OF  THE  ROAD     239 

"  Yes?  "  Sackett  understood.  "  Sherrod's  elected, 
I  suppose?  " 

"  Yes.     Thanks  to  your  influence." 

"  I'm  sorry."  Sackett's  regret  was  genuine.  Mon- 
archs  are  always  sorry  to  have  to  change  ministers. 
It  is  expensive.  And  deposed  ministers  are  apt  to 
hold  resentment.  "  But  I  have  my  duty  — " 

"  To  your  stock-holders,  of  whom  I  am  one.  Yes, 
I  know.  I'm  not  complaining,"  Murchell  interrupted 
mildly.  "  Do  you  think  I  came  to  bark  at  you  for 
not  playing  fair,  Sackett  ?  " 

"Then  what  did  you  come  for?"  Sackett  pulled 
out  his  watch  and  looked  at  it  significantly,  a  hint 
that  two  years  before  he  would  have  hesitated  to 
give.  Murchell  did  not  seem  to  observe  the  action. 

"  I  came  to  tell  you  to  keep  an  eye  on  the  Michi 
gan.  I've  kept  them  out  of  the  Steel  City  for  you 
so  far.  But  they're  coming  in.  They  ought  to  get 
in,  too.  At  any  rate,  they're  getting  ready  to  spend 
a  million  in  the  attempt.  I  don't  believe  Sherrod  can 
keep  them  out.  Keep  an  eye  on  him,  Sackett." 

"  We're  counting  on  you  to  help  there." 

Murchell  shook  his  head.     "  I'm  through." 

"  Look  here !  What's  the  use  of  your  getting  your 
back  up  over  this  business?  You  understand  per 
fectly  well  that  we  must  stand  in  with  whoever's  on 
top.  You  put  Sherrod  out  and  we'll  back  you  as 
strong  as  ever.  I  wish,"  Sackett  said  persuasively, 
"  you'd  keep  an  oversight  of  the  Michigan  matter. 
I  doubt  myself  that  Sherrod  can  keep  them  out." 

"Little  late  thinking  that,  aren't  you?  He  can't. 
Don't  trust  him  to  do  it.  Sherrod  won't  last,  Sackett. 


240  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

He  has  no  self-control.  He's  too  greedy.  But  I'm 
through.  I  don't  want  to  put  him  out." 

"  We'll  make  it  worth  your  while,  if  that's  the 
trouble." 

"  You  can't  make  it  worth  my  while." 

"  You  politicians,"  Sackett  exclaimed  angrily, 
"  make  me  tired,  with  your  infernal  bickerings  and 
jealousies.  I'd  as  soon  be  back  in  the  old  days  — " 

"  No,  you  wouldn't,"  Murchell  interrupted  again 
dryly.  "  You  wouldn't  go  back  to  those  days  for 
many  times  the  millions  it'll  cost  you  to  keep  the 
Michigan  out  —  if  you  keep  it  out.  You  know  that 
—  I  know  it.  You  railroaders  have  grown  hog-fat 
the  last  few  years,  just  because  in  every  state  of  the 
union  there's  been  a  man  like  me,  willing  to  prostitute 
himself  in  your  service." 

Sackett  looked  a  real  astonishment  —  and  sus 
picion. 

"  You  needn't  be  afraid,"  Murchell  grimly  an 
swered  the  suspicion.  "  It's  too  late  for  the  leopard 
to  change  his  spots.  I'm  not  going  to  fight  you.  I'm 
going  to  quit." 

He  slouched  back  in  his  chair,  half  closing  his  eyes 
as  though  he  were  very  tired.  He  sat  for  several 
minutes  without  speaking,  forgetting  that  Sackett's 
time  was  precious.  Sackett,  too,  seemed  to  have  for 
gotten  this  important  fact.  He  was  wrinkling  his 
brow  over  the  problem,  what  means  to  devise  to  in 
duce  an  old,  pigheaded,  betrayed  minister  to  remain 
in  the  service  in  a  minor  capacity.  He  was  too 
shrewd  to  argue;  for  many  years  he  had  had  in 
timate  knowledge  of  Murchell's  inflexibility.  In  his 
perplexity  he  drew  out  a  cigar,  lighted  it,  took  a 


THE  FORK  OF  THE  ROAD     241 

few  whiffs,  absently  tossed  it  into  the  polished  brass 
cuspidor  and,  as  absently,  produced  a  second;  and 
Sackett's  hobby,  as  any  railroad  man  of  the  period 
will  tell  you,  was  economy. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  I'll  do,"  he  began  at  last.  "  I'll 
see  Sherrod  and — " 

Senator  Murchell  looked  up  sharply,  as  though  he 
had  forgotten  the  other's  presence.  "  Eh  ?  Still  try 
ing  to  play  both  ends  against  the  middle,  Sackett?" 
He  shook  his  head  and  rose ;  it  seemed  to  be  an  effort. 
"  I'm  through.  I've  earned  a  rest,  and  my  health's 
gone  back  on  me.  I'm  going  back  to  the  farm  to  raise 
potatoes  —  the  farmer  vote  crop  has  petered  out. — 
And  if  I  ever  do  come  back  into  politics,  I'll  make  my 
own  terms." 

He  nodded  a  careless  good-by  and  went  slowly  out 
of  the  office.  Apparently  he  had  forgotten  to  shake 
hands.  Sackett  did  not  remind  him  of  the  omission. 
He  remained  with  the  impression  of  having  beheld  a 
broken,  hence  harmless,  old  man. 

It  was  characteristic  of  Murchell  to  give  the  world 
no  inkling  of  his  illness.  He  granted  one  interview 
in  which  his  part  consisted  of  a  curt,  "  I  am  out  of 
politics  ? "  and  thereafter  refused  to  be  seen.  He 
was  supposed  to  be  sulking  over  his  defeat.  In  the 
hostile  press  appeared  triumphant  and  quasi-posthu 
mous  summaries  of  his  deeds  creditable  and  discred 
itable,  chiefly  the  latter;  to  these,  it  was  implied,  finis 
had  been  written.  Not  until  after  the  fact  did  the 
surgeons,  unable  to  refuse  the  opportunity  for  self- 
advertisement,  announce  that  a  critical  operation  had 
been  performed  from  which  there  were  hopes  of  a 
partial  recovery.  Interest  in  his  condition  persisted; 


242  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

extraordinarily,  considering  that  he  was  out  of  poli 
tics.  Meager  accounts,  drawn  largely  from  baffled 
reporters'  fancy,  sketched  him  as  a  spiritless,  feeble 
old  man.  The  sentimental  were  inclined  to  believe 
that  his  heart  was  broken  by  his  defeat. 

When  his  convalescence  permitted  it,  he  was  re 
moved  to  New  Chelsea.  That  community,  as  you 
may  believe,  was  properly  excited,  intrusively  inter 
ested  and  somewhat  apprehensive  lest  he  pass  unsea 
sonably  into  the  beyond  and  rob  it  of  the  distinction 
of  being  his  "  legal  residence."  To  have  lost  the 
prestige  of  being  capital  de  facto  was  bad  enough. 
John  Dunmeade,  as  a  collaborator  in  this  disaster, 
was  made  to  feel  a  sudden  atmospheric  frigidity  and 
was  led  into  further  sorrowful  reflections  on  the  fickle 
ness  of  the  public.  The  mystery,  only  partially  solved 
by  his  sickness,  of  the  grim  old  warrior  whose  most 
spirited  fights  had  always  been  made  in  the  face  of 
defeat,  now  passively  yielding  to  his  foes,  continued 
unreasonably  to  vex  the  public.  But  Murchell,  in 
very  ungracious  fashion,  kept  himself  secluded  from 
his  neighbors  and  the  stream  of  pilgrims  that  knocked 
at  his  gates. 

These  pilgrims  were  of  three  classes:  those  who 
had  not  wandered  away  after  new  gods;  those  who 
had  followed  the  new  to  find  them  unprofitable  idols 
and  to  return;  and  those  who,  clinging  to  the  new, 
sought  through  dissimulation  to  test  the  potency  of 
the  old.  Their  plaints  were  divers;  Sherrod  was  too 
arbitrary,  he  was  too  lax,  he  permitted  himself  and 
his  friends  to  shake  the  plum  trees  of  the  cities  so 
vigorously  as  to  court  failure  of  the  crop,  he  greedily 
refused  to  divide  the  plums.  From  which  it  will 


THE  FORK  OF  THE  ROAD     243 

appear  that  Sherrod,  even  thus  early  in  his  ministry, 
showed  an  incomplete  mastery  of  the  subtle  science 
of  suiting  the  word  to  the  man.  Murchell  was  urged 
to  intervene,  to  resist,  to  destroy.  For  one  and  all 
he  had  only  the  irritable  reiteration,  "  I  am  out  of 
politics."  The  dissimulants  joyously,  and  the  com 
plainants  despairingly,  almost  came  to  believe  that  he 
meant  it.  But  the  pilgrimages  continued. 

In  the  midst  of  this  uncertainty  the  Michigan  Rail 
road  began  secretly  to  undermine  the  Steel  City,  that 
hitherto  impregnable  fortress  of  the  rival  monarch. 
And  John  Dunmeade's  announcement  was  made  that, 
whether  renominated  as  district  attorney  or  not,  he 
would  be  a  candidate,  anti-Sherrod  and  anti-Murchell, 
for  the  gubernatorial  nomination.  Jerry  Brent  was 
already  well  into  a  campaign  for  the  Democratic 
nomination,  theretofore  regarded  as  an  empty  honor. 

We  may  not  go  so  far  as  to  declare  that  Miss 
Roberta  turned  the  course  of  history.  But  it  is  cer 
tain  that  she  was  first  to  foresee,  though  not  with 
her  bones,  the  fork  of  the  road.  Miss  Roberta  had 
scornfully  refused  to  gratify  her  curiosity  by  asking 
questions,  but  to  her  had  come  tales  of  a  doddering 
old  creature  living  alone  —  yet  without  scandal  — 
with  a  uniformed  nurse  and  two  servants.  So  touch 
ing  were  the  pictures  presented  that  at  length,  after 
a  protracted  struggle  with  herself,  her  heart  relented. 
She  filled  a  basket  with  the  following  comestibles : 
one  dozen  glasses  of  her  own  crabapple  jelly,  two 
jars  of  chicken  gumbo  made  after  a  recipe  which  she 
alone  knew,  and  a  perfectly  innocuous  pudding  de 
signed  to  tempt  the  appetite  of  the  most  jaded  in 
valid.  This  basket  on  her  arm,  she  set  out,  on  a  day 


244  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

when  the  March  wind  blustered  and  stung  her  face, 
toward  Murchell's  home. 

She  presented  herself,  stiffly  upright  as  a  grenadier, 
to  the  black-skinned  man-servant. 

"  I've  brought  some  things  for  Senator  Murchell," 
she  announced. 

"  Yes,  ma'am.  Ah'll  give  'em  to  'im."  He  made 
as  though  to  relieve  her  of  her  burden. 

"  I'll  give  them  to  him  myself." 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  but  the  senatoh  he  ain'  'lowed  — " 

"  Tell  him,"  she  commanded,  "  that  Miss  Dun- 
meade  wishes  to  see  him." 

He  obeyed.  Almost  immediately  he  returned  with 
a  summons  to  the  library.  She  followed  him,  re 
fusing  to  relinquish  her  burden.  She  found  Murchell 
reading  before  the  open  fire,  his  cheeks  slightly  pale 
and  sunken,  but  his  eyes  clear  and  bright.  He  rose, 
with  an  ease  that  did  not  betoken  approaching  dis 
solution,  to  relieve  her  of  the  basket,  shaking  hands 
warmly. 

"  I'm  very  glad  to  see  you,  Roberta.  Take  a 
chair." 

She  seated  herself  primly.  "  You  don't  look  as 
bad  as  they  say."  She  observed  him  suspiciously. 

"  I'm  as  well  as  can  be  expected,  I  suppose." 

Suspicion  deepened.     "What  are  you  reading?" 

"Marcus  Aurelius" 

"  Then  you  can't  be  very  sick !  " 

"  Roberta,"  he  said  lugubriously,  "  the  doctors  tell 
me  that  even  with  the  best  of  care,  I  can  live  only 
a  few  years,  and  that's  thanks  to  my  good  constitu 
tion." 


THE  FORK  OF  THE  ROAD     245 

"  A  few  years !  "  she  sniffed.  "  What  did  you  ex 
pect,  at  your  time  of  life?" 

"  Eh !  But  I  suppose,"  he  sighed,  "  I  needn't  ex 
pect  much  sympathy  from  you." 

"  A  nice  time  it  is,"  she  responded  tartly,  "  for 
you  to  be  asking  sympathy!  You  who  never  in  your 
life  had  any  for  anybody  else." 

He  thought  it  wise  to  change  the  subject,  and  hur 
riedly  leaned  over,  raised  the  napkin  and  peered  into 
the  basket. 

"Why!  Did  you  bring  all  these  for  me,  Roberta? 
That  was  very  thoughtful  of  you." 

"  I  guess  you  don't  need  them." 

"  O,  yes,  I  do.  My  cook  isn't  very  competent." 
He  inwardly  prayed  that  the  slandered  lady  was  not 
within  hearing.  "  And  I  can't  eat  everything  yet." 

"  I  think,"  she  said  sharply,  "  you're  just  malinger 
ing.  Pretending  to  be  sick  to  get  people's  sympathy 
because  you've  been  beaten." 

"  Now,  Roberta,"  he  protested  mildly,  "  haven't  I 
a  right  to  rest  up  after  sixty-five  years  of  hard 
work?" 

"  No  man  has  the  right  to  rest,  so  long  as  he's 
able-bodied.  And  you're  that." 

He  smiled,  not  in  amusement  at  her  asperity.  "  It's 
like  you  to  cover  up  a  kind  act  with  sharp  words. 
Your  bark's  worse  than  your  bite,  Roberta.  But  you 
would  have  led  a  man  a  life!"  He  shook  his  head 
humorously.  "  What  an  escape  the  men  had  that  you 
wouldn't  marry !  " 

"  There  weren't  any  to  escape." 

"  Yes,  there  were.     I  remember  that.     You  were 


246  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

what  they  call  a  beauty,  weren't  you?  Why,"  he 
asked  in  sudden  curiosity,  "  didn't  you  marry  some  one 
of  them?" 

"  Because,"  she  said  simply,  "  you  were  too  busy 
being  in  love  with  Anne  Dunmeade  to  notice  me." 

"Eh!  I  —  why,  Roberta  — !"  He  stared  at  her 
blankly.  Then  his  manner  quickly  softened.  To 
him,  as  she  sat  there  before  him,  primly  upright, 
hands  folded  passively  in  her  lap,  there  came  a  sense 
of  something  pathetic,  almost  tragic.  He  had  an  un 
comfortable  feeling  of  responsibility. 

She  perceived  his  change  of  manner  and  drew  her 
self  up  even  more  stiffly,  if  that  were  possible.  Her 
lips  straightened  in  a  severe,  thin  line. 

"  You  needn't  be  sorry  for  me.  I  have  been  glad 
I  escaped,  ever  since  I  found  out  the  kind  of  man  you 
were." 

"  I  am  —  surprised,"  he  said  weakly.  "  I  never 
supposed  you  looked  at  me.  Do  you  know,"  he  added 
slowly,  "  I  have  a  notion  I  missed  a  good  deal  by  not 
knowing." 

"  I'd  have  made  a  man  out  of  you." 

"  I  guess,"  he  smiled  grimly,  "  you'd  have  found  it 
a  hard  job,  as  you  seem  to  measure  men.  But  I  guess 
you  could  have,  if  any  one  could." 

She  turned  on  him  in  a  little  unexpected  gust  of 
fierceness.  "  But  not  the  kind  of  man  you  are!  Not 
a  coward  to  quit  fighting  the  very  first  time  you  are 
beaten.  I  thought  you  were  one  when  you  left  your 
regiment  before  Gettysburg,  but  I  excused  you  on  the 
plea  that  we  needed  men  at  home,  too.  But  now  — " 
Her  unfinished  sentence  was  eloquent. 

His  astonishment  was  genuine.     "  Eh !     I  believed 


THE  FORK  OF  THE  ROAD     247 

you  thought  me  a  bad  man.  You  ought  to  be  glad  I 
was  beaten." 

"  But  John  says  you're  a  better  man  than  Sherrod." 

"  Only,"  Murchell  amended,  shrewdly  guessing, 
"  he  put  it  that  Sherrod  is  a  worse  man  than  I  am, 
didn't  he?  I  don't  believe  I'm  a  coward.  A  few 
months  ago  I  did  intend  to  quit  —  I  was  very  tired 
and  my  sickness  was  coming  on.  But  now  —  Ro 
berta,  can  you  keep  a  secret  ?  " 

"  I've  kept  one  for  forty  years." 

"  So  you  have !  Well,  the  other  day  I  got  my  doc 
tor  to  tell  me  the  things  I  must  eat  and  must  not 
eat  to  keep  alive  as  long  as  possible  —  and  then  told 
him  to  go  to  the  devil.  Roberta,  it  was  the  first  time 
I've  sworn  since  I  joined  the  church." 

Miss  Roberta  kept  her  smiles  for  rare  occasions. 
"  I  wish  I  could  have  heard  you !  "  Which  conces 
sion  she  immediately  negatived  by  adding,  "  I  sup 
pose  you're  going  to  do  the  same  kind  of  thing  over 
again." 

"  Roberta,  you're  the  most  consistently  inconsistent 
person  in  the  world.  You  mean,  am  I  going  to  turn 
reformer?  You  can't  teach  an  old  dog  new  tricks." 

"  Not  if  he  doesn't  want  to  learn,  I  expect." 

She  rose  to  go.  He  followed  her  example,  though 
urging  her  to  remain.  She  went  a  few  steps  toward 
the  door,  then  suddenly  turned  and  walked  back  to 
face  him. 

"  Why  don't  you  help  John?  " 

It  was  his  turn  to  stiffen,  angrily.  "  You  ask  that, 
after  the  way  he  attacked  me  and  created  a  sentiment 
against  me  that  paved  the  way  for  Sherrod  to  beat 
me?  He's  responsible  for  Sherrod's  getting  on  top, 


248  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

do  you  know  that?  I  gave  him  a  chance  five  years 
ago  and  he  wouldn't  take  it.  I  will  do  nothing  -for 
him. 

"  And  besides,"  he  added,  more  mildly,  "  he 
wouldn't  let  me  help  him  in  the  only  way  I  could." 

She  looked  at  him  strangely  for  a  moment.  He 
would  have  said,  had  not  the  notion  been  so  incredi 
bly  absurd,  that  there  was  pity  in  her  eyes.  She  spoke 
with  unusual  quietness  for  her.  "  I  wasn't  thinking 
of  him.  He  doesn't  need  you.  You  need  him." 

Again  his  astonishment  was  genuine. 

She  turned  and  went  to  the  door,  on  her  way  tak 
ing  up  the  basket.  Recovering  himself,  he  hastened 
after  her. 

"  Aren't  you  going  to  leave  the  basket,  Roberta  ?  " 

"  I  am  going  to  take  it,"  she  flung  back  as  she 
passed  out  of  the  room,  "  to  a  sick  man  who  needs 
it  —  and  deserves  it.  And  I  can  find  the  door  my 
self,  Will  Murchell." 

He  did  not  accompany  her  farther.  He  went  to 
a  window  where  he  could  watch  her,  still  stiffly  up 
right  as  a  grenadier,  breasting  the  March  gale.  He 
tried  to  recall  how  sKe  had  appeared  when  she  was 
young;  for  she,  too,  all  unknown  to  him,  must  have 
marked  a  phase  in  the  life  of  the  young  man  who 
once  had  been.  When  she  had  passed  out  of  sight, 
he  returned  to  his  chair. 

Marcus  Aurelius  was  forgotten. 

One  of  the  pilgrims  we  have  met  before,  casually, 
during  the  course  of  this  chronicle,  the  Honorable 
G.  Washington  Jenkins.  He  had  been  of  the  faith 
ful  at  a  time  when  heresy  was  profitable.  Hence  his 


THE  FORK  OF  THE  ROAD     249 

tall,  Lincoln-like  figure  was  one  of  the  few  that  were 
not  turned  inhospitably  away  from  Murchell's  door. 

He  was  in  New  Chelsea  a  few  days  after  Miss 
Roberta's  neighborly  errand,  having  had  to  return 
from  Washington  in  connection  with  the  Plumville 
post-office.  He  had  "  run  over,"  as  he  explained  to 
Editor  Harvey,  "  to  inquire  after  the  health  of  Sena 
tor  Murchell." 

The  inquiries  made,  he  consumed  a  whole  hour  ex 
patiating  on  the  necessity  of  recapturing  a  lost  leader 
ship.  Murchell  listened  with  few  interruptions. 
Then: 

"  Wash,"  he  asked  abruptly,  "  how'd  you  like  to  be 
a  candidate  for  governor?" 

"  I'd  like  it,"  said  Wash  honestly. 

"  Suppose,"  Murchell  suggested,  "  you  begin  a 
campaign  for  delegates.  We  could  use  the  dele 
gates,  even  if  we  couldn't  use  you,"  he  added  thought 
fully. 

The  congressman  smiled  faintly.  They  discussed 
the  matter  at  length. 

As  Jenkins  was  leaving,  his  host  remarked  ear 
nestly,  "  Hereafter  consult  only  with  Greene.  Don't 
come  here.  I'm  out  of  politics." 

Neither  gentleman  smiled. 

When  the  Honorable  Jenkins  returned  to  Washing 
ton,  he  reluctantly  admitted  to  an  interrogative  re 
porter,  "  No,  I'm  afraid  the  senator  is  in  a  bad  way. 
I  don't  think  he'll  ever  go  back  into  politics." 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

HISTORY 

THE  tablets  of  history  are  scrawled  with  the 
names  of  many  gentlemen  who  are  supposed  to 
have  made  it.  Probably  they  had  something  to  do 
with  it.  Yet  how  incomplete  and  haphazard  the  rec 
ord,  how  many  names,  sign..icant  if  we  but  knew  their 
relation,  are  lacking!  Let  us  here  raise  a  tablet  upon 
which  shall  be  inscribed :  "  To  those  who,  having 
had  a  finger  in  the  historical  pie-making,  modestly 
refused  or  were  unhappily  unable  to  record  their 
names  and  performances  on  its  register." 

There  was,  for  example,  John  Heath.  Of  him 
you  have  never  heard.  Unhonored  and  unsung  until 
this  hour,  he  has  remained  in  that  shadowy  obscurity 
for  which  he  was  designed.  And  no  man  ever  saw  him. 
He  was,  like  chaos  before  it  became  a  cosmos,  with 
out  form  and  void.  And  yet,  in  a  crisis  when  history 
was  in  the  making,  at  the  very  psychological  moment 
as  you  may  say,  he  put  forth  his  unsubstantial  hand 
and —  But  let  that  appear  in  due  course. 

It  was  at  a  crucial  time  for  those  whom  this  chron 
icle  concerns,  when  Jerry  Brent  and  John  Dunmeade 
were  marching  from  Dan  to  Beersheba  and  back,  and 
laboring,  with  a  patience  worthy  of  larger  results, 
to  rally  the  slender  hosts  of  reform;  when  Stephen 
Hampden  was  risking  his  all  in  one  wild  throw  for 

250 


HISTORY  251 

vast  fortune  and  Warren  Blake  was  following  that 
daring  example;  when  the  Consolidated  Coal  Com 
pany  was  making  many  happy  by  declaring  a  dividend 
of  seven  per  cent. 

In  the  kingdom  things  were  awry.  Among  the 
subjects,  whose  interest  in  kingly  affairs  after  two 
years  of  slumbering  was  due  to  awake,  a  murmur 
—  not  a  cry  of  protest  nor  even  a  whisper,  but  a 
barely  audible  murmur  —  was  to  be  heard;  a  rousing 
yawn,  a  rubbing  of  eyes.  The  rival  monarch  was 
thundering  at  the  gates.  Worse  still,  there  was  dis 
affection  in  the  very  source  of  dominion,  in  the  army. 
A  time  truly  when  the  master  strategy  of  a  Richelieu 
or  the  feline  hand  of  a  Mazarin,  at  the  very  least  the 
resolution  and  diplomacy  of  a  Wolsey,  were  required. 
And  the  minister  in  power  chose  this  hour  —  to  get 
drunk!  Anxious  glances  were  being  cast  toward  the 
deposed  minister  in  his  self-exacted  exile.  Royal 
messengers  were  being  sent  galloping  post-haste  to 
him  to  urge  him,  with  fine,  unconscious  irony,  for  the 
sake  of  past  favor  to  speak  the  word  that  would  re 
store  concord  among  the  mutinous  regiments.  But 
the  ominous  silence  continued  unbroken. 

At  such  a  juncture,  we  say,  John  Heath  stepped  in 
to  deflect  the  course  of  history. 

Came  to  the  exile,  not  many  days  after  Miss  Ro 
berta  had  come  and  departed  with  her  basket,  a  mes 
senger  not  under  royal  seal.  Secretary,  we  may  call 
him,  to  the  new  minister,  having  curried  favor  by 
desertion  of  the  old.  He  was  visibly  perturbed  and 
would  not  desist  from  his  importunities  until  admitted 
to  the  presence  of  the  exile.  Even  then,  such  was  his 
feverish  haste,  he  did  not  notice  in  his  host,  as  Miss 


252  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

Roberta  had  done,  a  vigor  inconsistent  with  certain 
rumors  rife. 

He  plunged  at  once  into  the  matter  in  hand. 

"  Come,"  he  besought,  "  to  the  capital." 

"I  will  not,"  was  the  answer.     "What's  wrong?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  sighed  the  messenger.  "  Some 
thing's  wrong." 

"  Draw  a  chair  to  the  fire,"  ordered  the  exile,  "  and 
cool  off." 

This  extraordinary  command  the  messenger  did  his 
best  to  obey. 

"  Take  a  cigar  —  on  the  table  behind  you,"  Mur- 
chell  continued. 

This  also  the  messenger  did,  puffing  rapidly  until 
Murchell,  to  see  him,  had  to  pierce  a  thick  blue 
nimbus. 

"  Now  then,"  was  the  next  command,  "  imitate  a 
sane  man  as  far  as  possible,  and  tell  me  what  you 
want."  t 

"  We've  got  Sherrod  locked  up  in  a  room  at  the 
hotel.  He's  drunk  as  a  lord  and  threatens  to  throw 
himself  into  the  river!  " 

"  Well  —  let  him !  "  said  Murchell,  grimly  heart 
less. 

"  But  there'll  be  scandal.  There's  something 
wrong." 

"  Then  let  there  be  scandal." 

"But,"  cried  the  messenger,  "  it  may  be  something 
to  bring  on  a  revolution  that  will  sweep  us  all  — 
Sherrod,  Parrott,  me  —  you  —  off  the  face  of  the 
earth." 

"  I,"  responded  Murchell  calmly,  "  am  out  of  poli 
tics,  and  don't  care.  What  do  you  want  me  to  do  ?  " 


HISTORY  253 

"  Come  with  me  to  the  capital,  find  what's  wrong 
and  straighten  it  out." 

"  Is  that  all?  Why  come  to  me?  Why  don't  you 
do  it  yourself?  Go  to  Parrott." 

"  There's  nobody  else  to  go  to.  I  can't.  Par- 
rott's  a  fourflusher.  This  is  critical."  , 

"  I  won't  do  it.  It's  trouble  of  your  own  making. 
Get  yourselves  out  of  it." 

The  messenger  sprang  to  his  feet  and  began  to 
pace  the  floor  swiftly.  He  assumed  to  instruct  a 
master.  With  wild  gesticulation  and  passionate 
phrase  he  sketched  the  impending  calamity.  The 
times  were  ripe  for  a  revolution.  These  unutterable 
fools,  Dunmeade  and  Brent,  with  their  incessant  clack 
about  bosses  and  graft  were  getting  the  people  stirred 
up.  There  was  trouble  in  the  air  —  he,  the  speaker, 
could  feel  it.  The  organization  was  falling  to  pieces. 
That  magnificent  army,  monument  to  the  incompara 
ble  genius  of  Murchell,  faced  total  destruction.  Mur- 
chell's  old  friends,  who  had  stood  by  him  so  faith 
fully  during  all  his  victorious  career  —  and  had  fled 
only  before  the  approach  of  defeat  —  would  be  swept 
from  power  and  into  a  profitless  obscurity.  The 
messenger  implored  the  exile  to  "  come  over  and  help 
us." 

Murchell    listened,    unemotional    as    the    chair    in  , 
which  he  sat,  until  the  despairing  appeal  came  to  a 
period. 

"  Do  you  think,"  he  inquired  calmly,  "  Sherrod's 
short  in  his  accounts?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  There  are  books  I  can't  see  with 
out  exciting  suspicion.  And  I  can  get  nothing  out  of 
him." 


254  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

The  swift  pacing  ceased  abruptly.  The  messenger 
confronted  Murchell. 

"  Who,"  he  demanded,  "  is  John  Heath?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  answered  Murchell  truthfully. 

"  Within  less  than  two  years  he  has  received  from 
the  state  more'n  nine  hundred  thousand  dollars  — 
for  special  services !  " 

"  Nine  hundred  thousand  dollars !  What  is  John 
Heath?" 

"  I  don't  know.     But  I  think  he  may  be  —  hell." 

The  messenger  flopped  into  his  chair,  helping  him 
self,  uninvited,  to  another  cigar.  Murchell,  as  though 
taking  up  a  task  that  the  other  had  left  unfinished,  rose 
and  in  his  turn  began  to  pace  the  floor ;  not  excitedly, 
but  leisurely,  hands  thrust  into  trousers'  pockets,  and 
without  words.  The  guest  watched  him  anxiously. 
But  neither  smile  of  triumph  nor  frown  of  per 
plexity  rufHed  the  contemplative  calm  of  the  old  man's 
face. 

Only  once  did  the  guest  interrupt.  "  A  train  leaves 
in  half  an  hour,  Senator." 

Murchell  ignored  the  interruption  and  continued 
his  pacing.  After  a  few  minutes  he  went  out  of  the 
room,  still  without  speaking.  He  did  not  reappear 
for  almost  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  But  then  he  wore 
a  hat  and  an  overcoat  and  was  carrying  a  light  leather 

grip- 

"  Come  along,"  he  commanded.  "  The  hack's 
waiting." 

The  guest  went  along  with  alacrity. 

He  would  have  given  much  to  know  what  was  go 
ing  on  in  Murchell's  brain,  what  hopes  and  plans 
were  being  born.  But  it  was  not  his  to  know.  Dur- 


HISTORY  255; 

ing  the  ride  to  the  Steel  City  Murchell  talked  prin 
cipally  of  a  severe  snowstorm  that  had  visited  New 
Chelsea  during  the  winter. 

Once  his  companion  interrupted  to  say,  suggestively, 
"  Senator,  this  matter  might  change  things  consider 
ably,  eh?" 

"  It  isn't  ended  yet,"  Murchell  remarked  dryly. 

"But  when  it's  over — ?  You  know,  I  hope,  you 
can  count  on  me  —  for  anything,  Senator."  There 
was  a  question  in  his  statement. 

Murchell  shook  his  head  in  curt  finality.  "  I  want 
nothing.  I  am  out  of  politics." 

When  they  had  reached  the  Steel  City  and  had 
changed  cars  for  the  capital  train,  he  went  to  their 
stateroom  and  was  soon,  to  all  outward  appearances, 
sound  asleep.  The  messenger  regretted  that  this  op 
portunity  for  a  confidential  chat  should  be  wasted. 

At  that  mystic  hour  which  we  are  told  is  the  dark 
est  of  all,  two  men  were  sitting  in  a  hotel  room.  One 
sat  stretched  out  before  the  dying  fire,  yawning  wist 
fully  for  the  sleep  of  which  twenty- four  hours'  guard 
duty  had  robbed  him.  A  litter  of  newspapers  on  the 
floor  around  him  showed  how  he  had  beguiled  the 
slow  vigil.  The  other  was  slouched  in  a  rocker  by 
the  table,  head  dropped  forward  on  his  breast  and 
hands  hanging  inertly  at  his  sides.  His  face,  past  the 
flush  of  mere  intoxication,  was  a  livid  white;  deep 
rings  were  under  his  eyes,  and  his  stupidly  parted  lips 
were  purple;  the  red-rimmed  eyelids  were  half  closed. 
Drunk  evidently,  and  more  than  that ;  the  wonder  was, 
when  one  saw  the  number  of  empty  bottles  on  the 
table,  that  a  man  could  consume  as  much  whisky  as 
he  apparently  had  swallowed  and  still  live.  Oc- 


256  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

casionally  his  lips  moved;  senseless  mutterings  came 
from  them. 

The  sober  one  rose,  stretched  himself  wearily  and, 
taking  up  the  coal-scuttle,  replenished  the  fire. 

At  the  noise  the  other  stirred,  straightened  up  with 
an  effort.  The  half -closed  lids  opened,  revealing  the 
glassy,  bloodshot  orbs,  in  one  of  which  was  the  sin 
ister  cast. 

"  Wha'zhay  ?  "  he  muttered  thickly.  He  made  a 
futile  attempt  to  rise.  "  Wakinzh,  I'm  go'n  out. 
Go'n  —  throw  m'zhelf  over  —  over  brizh." 

"  Shut  up,  you  fool !  "  Only  Watkins  defined  the 
kind  of  fool  more  specifically.  "  Here,  take  another 
drink." 

From  a  half -emptied  bottle  he  poured  out  a  glass 
of  liquor  and  held  it  to  the  other's  lips.  Sherrod 
drank  it  obediently  and  sank  back  into  his  former 
limp  attitude.  Watkins  returned  to  his  seat  before 
the  fire. 

A  few  minutes  later  he  heard  steps  along  the  hall 
and  a  guarded  knock  at  the  door.  He  opened  a  cau 
tious  crack,  peeped  out,  and  then  threw  it  open  eagerly. 
Murchell  and  the  messenger  entered.  Watkins 
seized  Murchell's  hand  joyfully. 

"Thank  the  Lord!"  he  exclaimed.  "I  couldn't 
have  stood  it  much  longer." 

"  How  is  he  ?  "  the  messenger  asked,  nodding  to 
ward  Sherrod. 

"  I've  kept  him  drunk  —  only  way  I  could  keep  him 
quiet.  The  hotel  people  think  it's  just  one  of  his 
periodicals." 

Sherrod  seemed  to  hear  their  voices.  He  opened 
his  eyes  again  and  stared  at  the  new-comers  glassily. 


HISTORY  257 

Then  a  lightning  flash  of  intelligence  seemed  to  pene 
trate  his  stupor. 

"Murchell!" 

He  managed  to  stagger  to  his  feet,  stumbling  to 
ward  Murchell  with  hands  outstretched  as  though 
obedient  to  some  primal  instinct  to  throw  himself  at 
the  feet  of  the  man  who  could  save  him.  Then  a  last 
wave  of  drunkenness  swept  over  him.  He  fell, 
sprawling  unconscious  on  the  floor. 

The  three  men  looked  disgustedly  down  on  the  thing 
before  them.  Watkins  nudged  it  roughly  with  his 
foot. 

"  Hog !  "  he  sneered  in  disrespect  he  would  not  have 
dared  to  show  to  Sherrod  sober.  "  He  ought  to  be 
kicked." 

"  He  ought,"  said  Murchell,  more  practical,  "  to 
have  a  Turkish  bath.  Is  there  one  open  at  this  time 
of  night?" 

"  In  the  hotel.  They  keep  it  open,"  Watkins 
grinned,  "  for  all-night  statesmen." 

"  Then  take  him  there." 

Ten  hours  later  Sherrod  opened  his  eyes.  After  a 
struggle  with  a  soggy,  unresponsive  brain  he  won  a 
vague  recollection  of  a  long  nightmarish  period  in 
which  a  Thing  scorched  and  seared  his  soul,  a  blank 
in  which  it  vanished,  and  of  being  roasted  and  steamed 
and  pounded  back  into  a  hazy  semblance  of  conscious 
ness.  He  was  too  old  for  his  body  to  recover  quickly, 
even  with  efficient  help,  from  the  effects  of  the  outrage 
he  had  put  upon  it,  as  the  throbbing  head  and  violent 
nausea  eloquently  proclaimed.  He  closed  his  eyes  and 
lay  very  still,  sending  memory  on  a  long,  wandering 


258  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

search  after  the  Thing  which  had  driven  him  to  this 
indiscretion.  Then  suddenly  came  —  recollection. 

He  started  up  with  a  groan  —  and  beheld  the  man 
who  sat  by  the  window.  The  man  —  Murchell  — 
heard  the  movement  and  came  to  the  bedside.  He 
stood  looking  down  pitilessly  at  the  half-recumbent 
sick  man.  Sherrod  stared  back  with  bewildered,  fear 
ful  eyes  for  a  moment.  Then,  with  another  groan, 
he  fell  back.  His  parched  lips  tried  to  frame  a  ques 
tion,  but  nothing  came  of  the  effort  save  a  dry,  croak 
ing  sound. 

Then  Murchell  spoke.  "  Who,"  he  demanded,  "  is 
John  Heath?" 

A  spasm  of  fear  even  more  acute  contracted  Sher- 
rod's  face.  He  could  not  take  his  eyes  from  Mur- 
cheil's,  which  held  him  as  if  in  a  physical  grip  and 
seemed  to  be  drawing  the  secret  out  of  him.  He 
moistened  his  lips  with  his  tongue. 

"  Wh  — •  what  do  you  —  know  ?  " 

"  Who,"  Murchell  repeated,  still  in  the  pitiless  tone, 
"who  is  John  Heath?" 

"  He  is  —  the  political  account." 

"Of  which  you're  the  receiving  end?" 

Sherrod's  lips  formed  a  soundless,  "  Yes." 

"  How  much  are  you  short  ?  " 

There  was  a  moment's  pause,  of  inward  struggle,  it 
seemed.  "  All  the  account." 

"  Nine  hundred  thousand  dollars  ?  " 

"  About  that." 

"  What  have  you  got  to  show  for  it  ?  " 

"  Some  securities  —  oil  stocks." 

"Worth  what?" 


HISTORY  259 

"  Three  hundred  thousand  —  about.  I  don't  know 
1 —  exactly." 

"Where  are  they?" 

"  In  my  private  safe  at  the  office." 

Murchell  turned  sharply  and  left  the  room.  Almost 
at  once  he  was  back,  accompanied  by  Watkins.  "  Give 
Watkins  the  combination,"  he  commanded. 

There  was  another  moment  of  hesitation,  of  inward 
struggle.  Sherrod's  soul  seethed  with  hate  of  the 
merciless  man  who  glared  so  icily  down  upon  him; 
he  felt  angrily  that  a  shameful  advantage  was  being 
taken  of  his  weakness  to  wring  from  him  what  in 
strength  he  could  have  withheld.  But  a  great  fear 
was  upon  him,  swallowing  up  even  hate  and  anger. 
He  mumbled  the  combination. 

"Have  you  got  that,  Watkins?  Then  you  and 
Paine  fetch  here  all  the  securities  in  the  safe.  Every 
thing  you  can  find.  Be  quick." 

Watkins  obeyed,  as  promptly  and  unquestioningly 
as  the  soldier  on  the  field  of  battle  obeys  his  superior 
officer.  As  he  went  he  found  time  to  wonder  how  the 
impression  had  ever  got  abroad  that  this  man  of  in 
stant  decision,  of  crisp  orders,  was  a  useless  victim 
of  the  decrepitude  of  age. 

Murchell  remained  looking  silently  down  at  the  man 
on  the  bed.  Sherrod  tried  to  glare  back  defiantly,  but 
the  fear  that  was  upon  him  would  speak.  He  reached 
up  and  clutched  Murchell  by  the  arm. 

"  Wli  —  what,"  he  quavered,  "  are  you  going  to 
do?" 

Murchell  shook  his  arm  free.  "  I  am  going  to  get 
you  out  of  the  muddle  you  have  got  yourself  into, 


26o  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

you  — "  He  left  the  sentence  uncompleted,  as  though 
he  could  think  of  no  adequate  epithet. 

Sherrod  gaped  foolishly,  trying  to  comprehend  the 
incomprehensible  —  that  the  man  above  him,  who  least 
of  all  the  world  owed  him  service,  would  lift  him 
over  the  impasse  around  which  no  way  appeared. 
Then  suddenly  he  broke  into  tears  and  maudlin  bab 
blings  —  explanations,  contrition,  gratitude,  promises 
mingling  disconnectedly.  He  longed,  he  declared,  to 
prove  his  gratitude,  he  would  give  his  life  to  repay 
him  who  would  do  this  mercy. 

Murchell  listened  in  cold  contempt.  "  You  don't 
mean  a  word  you  say,"  he  interrupted  the  flow  at  last. 
"  You're  only  a  coward  frightened  out  of  his  wits. 
You'll  be  the  same  treacherous  hound  when  it's  over. — 
I'm  not  doing  it  for  you." 

"  Then  why  are  you  doing  it?  And  how?  "  Sher- 
rod's  fear  rushed  back  upon  him. 

"  Never  mind  why,"  was  the  curt  answer.  "  I'll 
tell  you  how  when  it's  done." 

He  turned  and  went  out  of  the  room,  not  to  return 
until  Watkins  and  Paine,  the  messenger,  arrived  with 
the  securities. 

An  afternoon  train,  rolling  down  out  of  the  hills 
into  the  flat  lands,  bore  William  Murchell  to  the  city 
that  had  witnessed  the  last  step  in  his  overthrow.  A 
cab  took  him,  by  appointment,  to  the  home  of  Philip 
Wilder,  where  he  lay  overnight.  Philip  Wilder  was 
not  a  monarch,  to  be  sure,  but  he  was  a  prince  of  the 
blood  and  he  ruled  over  a  province  of  street  railways. 
Many  things  did  this  princely  gentleman  desire  and 


HISTORY  261 

for  them  he  was  willing  to  pay  —  the  least  price  that 
must  be  paid. 

He,  like  Miss  Roberta  and  Watkins,  was  astounded 
when  he  beheld,  not  a  shuffling,  harmless  shadow,  but 
a  man  who  showed  the  marks  of  age's  battering,  yet 
was  clear-minded,  hale  and  hearty,  who  had  not  for 
gotten  how  to  drive  a  close  bargain,  who  knew  exactly 
what  he  wanted  and  who  —  got  it.  So  pleased  was  he 
by  his  discovery  that  the  next  morning,  breaking  a  sol 
emn  promise  to  Murchell,  he  reported  it  to  Sackett. 
"  Richard,"  he  declared,  "  is  himself  again." 

But  by  that  time  Murchell  was  well  on  his  way  back 
to  the  capital. 

A  rumor  that  the  once  great  politician  was  on  the 
train  quickly  spread  among  the  passengers  and  many 
of  them  found  occasion  to  stroll  past  his  seat.  But 
there  was  no  visible  ripple  of  emotion  to  betray  to 
their  curious  eyes  the  swelling  sense  of  triumph  within 
him. 

When,  his  energy  sapped  up  by  the  sickness,  the  seri 
ousness  of  which  he  did  not  yet  realize,  he  had  con 
fronted  Sackett  and  declared  his  purpose  to  quit,  he 
had  spoken  in  all  truth.  But,  the  operation  over  and 
strength  creeping  back  into  the  body  whose  tissues 
austere  living  had  never  devitalized,  the  hunger,  the 
need  for  action  reasserted  itself.  The  relief,  the  doc 
tors  had  said,  could  be  but  temporary,  they  commanded 
abstinence  from  work  and  worry.  But  in  his  heart 
he  knew  better ;  he  knew  that  for  him,  to  whom  action 
—  the  same  "  work  and  worry  "  which  so  burdened 
other  men  —  had  been  the  very  bread  of  life,  to  dawdle 
along  to  the  grave  meant  a  speedier  decay.  The  spirit 


263  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

that  had  grown  strong  and  arrogant  on  the  battle-field 
would,  bereft  of  the  joy  of  struggle,  quickly  break. 

Hence  he  planned,  not  consciously  to  reseek  his  old 
power  and  responsibility,  but  from  his  castle  in  the 
forest  to  make  sudden,  unexpected  forays  to  harass 
those  who  had  deprived  him  of  his  glory.  Then,  even 
while  he  thus  planned  a  guerilla  warfare,  came  the 
opportunity  to  wreak  the  sweetest  of  all  revenges,  to 
save  those  who  had  thrown  him  over,  to  torture  his 
enemy  with  the  sense  of  inferiority  and  obligation, 
perhaps  —  the  warrior  soul  leaped  —  to  make  of  re 
venge  also  a  lever  to  open  the  gates  in  the  road  back 
to  supremacy.  Almost  for  the  first  time  in  his  life, 
he  acted  on  an  impulse.  Yet  his  action  was  not  wholly 
unconsidered.  During  the  few  minutes  in  which  he 
listened  to  and  pondered  the  Macedonian  cry,  he 
thought  much  —  more  of  what  he  would  do  than  of 
why. 

And  now  it  was  done  —  it  was  done !  Under  the 
stimulus  of  sharp,  successful  action  he  felt  almost  the 
strength  of  his  prime.  He  looked  out  of  the  window 
on  flying  meadow  and  plowed  land,  and  saw  them  not. 
He  was  beholding  a  vision  on  which,  with  savage 
contempt,  he  had  looked,  and  over  which,  with  yet  more 
savage  joy,  he  would  gloat  —  the  quivering,  fear-shot 
countenance  of  his  enemy.  Whirring  wheel  struck 
from  rail  an  iron  song  of  triumph  in  which  his  soul 
joined  —  the  mad,  exultant  shout  of  the  viking  return 
ing  victorious. 

But  he  found,  what  Murchell  with  his  experience 
of  men  ought  to  have  known  he  would  find,  a  different 
Sherrod  from  that  he  had  left, —  a  Sherrod  who  had 
had  time  to  think,  to  measure  the  situation,  who  had 


HISTORY  263 

recovered  his  nerve.  And  of  Sherrod  this  may  be 
written :  he  was  a  great  fighter.  Cunning  and  daring, 
he  knew  how  to  strike  and  where,  and  strike  he  gen 
erally  did  with  a  brilliancy  of  execution  no  other  poli 
tician  of  his  day  shared.  Conscienceless,  disloyal  — 
yes  —  but  even  his  treacheries  were  accomplished  with 
a  certain  reckless  grace  and  decision  that  gave  them 
the  seeming  of  the  born  master's  instinctive  strategy. 
One  got  the  impression  from  him  of  a  man  to  whom 
all  things  were  unmoral,  in  whom  ethical  sense  was 
naturally  lacking.  And  he  had  what  Murchell  had 
not,  a  personal  magnetism  that  often  won  faith  even 
where  interest  failed;  though  he  lacked  what  made 
Murchell  great,  inflexibility  and  self-control.  Coward 
he  was  not.  Almost  any  man,  beaten  by  the  same 
knowledge  of  crime  and  imminent  discovery,  with  so 
much  to  lose,  would  have  suffered  a  lapse  from  cour 
age.  But  the  hour  of  cringing  and  weakness  was  past. 
He  was  ready,  every  faculty  alert,  to  fight  to  keep 
what  he  had  won.  And  he  was  that  most  bitter  of 
men,  a  proud,  passionate  soul  upon  whom  had 
been  put  the  shame  of  having  his  enemy  behold  his 
shame. 

Murchell  found  him  in  the  same  hotel  room,  through 
the  open  windows  of  which  a  biting  wind  had  swept 
the  last  trace  of  the  fetid  fumes  of  tobacco  and  whisky. 
He  was  sitting,  wrapped  in  an  overcoat,  by  the  table, 
slowly  sipping  from  a  glass  of  iced  sour  lemonade. 
White  he  was  still,  with  deep  rings  under  his  eyes. 
But  only  the  compressed  lips  and  the  barely  percepti 
ble  tremor  of  the  hand  that  set  down  the  glass  denoted 
anxiety.  Murchell  carefully  closed  and  locked  the 
door  and,  without  speaking,  sat  down  across  the  table 


264  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

from  him.  Sherrod's  eyes,  cool,  not  defiant  but  ag 
gressive,  menacing  almost,  locked  with  Murchell's 
steady  ones. 

There  was  a  moment  of  silence,  during  which  Sher- 
rod  caught  on  the  other's  face  a  glimmer  of  astonish 
ment.  He  knew  the  reason  and  he  braced  himself 
the  more  tensely. 

"  Well  ?  "     The  voice  was  cool. 

"  I  went  to  Wilder,"  said  Murchell,  almost  in  a 
whisper.  "  He  is  selling  your  securities  to-day  at  the 
market.  He  will  lend  jou  the  balance.  To-morrow 
a  man  will  come  with  the  cash." 

"And  in  return?"     Sherrod  knew  the  prince. 

"  He  wants  some  charters  in  Adelphia  and  some 
traction  legislation.  He  will  explain  in  detail  when 
you  see  him.  I  have  promised  him  what  he  wants. 
You  will  see  that  he  gets  it." 

"  Yes.  The  balance  —  you  say  it  is  a  loan.  How 
am  I  to  repay?  " 

"  That  is  for  you  to  say."  Murchell  paused,  then 
added,  "  I  understand  banks  are  still  paying  for  the 
privilege  of  state  deposits." 

"  How  much  do  Paine  and  Watkins  know  ?  " 

"  As  much  as  I  guessed." 

"  I  can  keep  their  mouths  shut." 

Again  silence.  Neither's  eyes  had  wavered.  Put 
a  chessboard  between  them,  and  you  would  have  said 
that  they  were  two  men  intent  upon  their  game,  save 
that  they  looked  so  steadily  at  each  other.  Each 
was  the  chessman  that  the  other  would  move.  And 
each  seemed  determined  to  break  the  other's  gaze,  as 
though  upon  that  hung  the  issue  of  some  struggle  in 
which  they  engaged. 


HISTORY  265 

The  silence  was  broken  first  by  Sherrod.  His  lips 
twisted  in  a  faint  sneer. 

"  Are  you  waiting  for  my  gratitude  ?  I  have  none. 
I'm  sick  still,  but  I'm  not  afraid,  as  I  was  yesterday. 
And  I  understand  the  situation.  You  haven't  done  this 
for  me." 

"  Is  there  any  reason  why  I  should  do  it  for  you  ?  " 

Sherrod  began  to  feel  that  he  could  no  longer  endure 
the  other's  contemptuous,  relentless  gaze,  that  in  spite 
of  his  will  his  own  was  wavering.  To  cover  it  he 
made  a  convulsive  movement  with  his  arm  that  knocked 
over  the  glass.  He  looked  away  as  he  righted  it. 
The  discomfiture  worked  a  sudden  change  in  his  man 
ner.  The  coolness  vanished.  Hate,  anger,  boiled  over 
in  his  heart,  blazed  out  through  his  eyes  as  they  re 
turned  to  Murchell's.  He  almost  hissed  out  his 
words. 

"  You  came  here  expecting  to  gloat  over  me,  didn't 
you?  You  think,  because  you've  caught  me  with  the 
goods  on,  you're  a  superior  being.  You  needn't. 
Everything  I  am,  Bill  Murchell,  you  are !  " 

Murchell  permitted  himself  to  smile.  It  added  fuel 
to  the  rising  flames. 

"Don't  try  to  come  the  pure  and  lofty  over  me! 
Everything  I  am,  you  are.  Only  worse  —  you  whited 
sepulcher!  You're  an  elder  in  the  church,  ain't  you? 
I  s'pose,  when  you  were  sick,  you  had  the  parson 
around  to  pray  over  you,  didn't  you?  "  (As  a  matter 
of  fact,  precisely  that  had  happened.)  "When  you 
were  praying,  did  you  tell  the  parson  how  you  got  to 
be  so  rich  ?  " 

"  At  least,"  Murchell  said  quietly,  "  I  didn't  steal  it 
from  the  treasury  of  the  state." 


266  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

Under  the  taunt  Sherrod  seemed  to  lose  all  hold 
on  himself.  He  sprang  to  his  feet.  His  face  was 
convulsed,  his  voice  and  the  pointing  hand  shook  in  a 
very  hysteria  of  hate. 

"  You  dare  call  me  a  thief !  You!  How  about  the 
market  tips  you  got  for  your  votes  in  the  senate,  the 
bribes  you  authorized  to  be  given,  the  blackmail  you 
levied  for  your  influence  in  the  legislature?  Maybe 
you  called  them  legal  fees?  You  a  lawyer!  —  when 
there  isn't  a  business  man  in  the  country  would  trust 
you  with  a  case.  Yesterday  you  called  me  a  treacher 
ous  dog  —  remember  that?  How  did  you  get  your 
seat  in  the  senate,  if  it  wasn't  by  treachery  to  the  poor 
fool  that  made  you  and  trusted  you  ?  You  thought  me 
a  coward  yesterday.  I'm  a  braver  man  than  you. 
You're  the  kind  of  coward  that  hides  himself  from 
himself  under  a  cloak  of  sanctimonious  hypocrisy  and 
sophistry.  I've  heard  your  preacher's  talk  about  insti 
tutions  and  larger  good.  You're  not  man  enough  to 
admit  to  yourself  that  you're  like  us  all  —  on  the 
make  in  any  way  you  can  get  it."  He  stopped,  glar 
ing  at  Murchell,  his  breast  heaving  in  the  stress  of  his 
emotion. 

Into  Murchell's  eyes  had  come  a  steely  gleam  that 
in  a  saner  moment  would  have  restored  Sherrod  to 
self-control,  but  now  was  unheeded.  But  his  voice 
continued  cold,  cuttingly  contemptuous. 

"  Well,  are  you  convinced  ?  " 

"That  you—" 

"  Don't  talk  so  loud.  That  you're  a  better  and 
stronger  man  than  I  am  ?  " 

"  I'm  convinced  I  know  you,  my  friend.  And  I'm 
not  afraid  of  you.  Thought  you'd  come  into  this  af- 


HISTORY  267 

fair  and  use  the  knowledge  as  a  club  to  bully  me  out 
of  politics  with,  didn't  you  ?  Well  —  swing  your  club. 
I'm  not  afraid.  I  know  why  you  did  it,  not  for  me, 
but  for  yourself.  You're  trying  to  sneak  back  into 
the  game  after  you've  been  thrown  out  and  you  know 
that  this  thing,  if  it  came  out,  would  kill  your  chances 
as  well  as  mine.  The  state's  all  upset,  thanks  to  your 
underhand  work,  and  this  would  start  a  revolution 
that  would  wipe  you  —  me  —  all  our  kind,  off  the 
map  —  would  help  nobody  but  that  fool  Dunmeade. 
And  by  helping  me,  you've  made  yourself  an  acces 
sory.  So  then  —  crack  your  whip,  if  you  dare !  " 

Murchell  got  slowly  to  his  feet.  Never  once,  from 
the  moment  he  sat  down,  had  his  eyes  left  Sherrod's. 
In  them  now,  lights  came  and  went,  like  heat  lightning 
on  a  summer  horizon.  In  him,  too,  words  were  burn 
ing  to  be  cried  aloud;  he  had  heard  much  truth  that 
afternoon  and  it  had  stung  into  life  something  which 
in  William  Murchell  had  never  stirred  before.  With 
an  effort  that  rendered  him  momentarily  voiceless  and 
rigid  he  beat  down  the  surging  passion.  Then  he 
spoke,  still  in  the  cold,  even  voice  that  cut. 

"  Just  why  I  have  done  this  isn't  important  at  pres 
ent.  I  had  a  good  many  reasons  —  some,  probably, 
that  you  aren't  qualified  to  understand.  And  I'm  not 
trying  to  sneak  back  into  the  game.  I've  never  been 
out  of  it.  As  to  whether  I  want  or  dare  to  swing  my 
club,  that  remains  to  be  seen.  You'll  have  to  chance 
it,  Sherrod." 

Sherrod  laughed,  a  harsh,  sneering  cachinnation  that 
must  have  carried  into  the  adjoining  room.  "  I'll 
chance  it !  You're  not  the  kind  of  man  in  whose  hands 
such  knowledge  is  dangerous.  And  I  know  all  about 


268  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

your  game  —  do  you  think  I've  been  fooled  by  your 
pretense?  I  know  all  about  Wash  Jenkins'  gumshoe 
campaign  for  delegates."  He  leaned  over  the  table 
and  thrust  out  an  index  finger  that  almost  struck  Mur- 
chell's  face.  "  You  tell  Wash  Jenkins  from  me  to  go 
straight  to  hell.  I  can  be  nominated  governor  even 
from  behind  the  bars  of  the  penitentiary!" 

Murchell  was  fully  master  of  himself  once  more. 
He  calmly  pushed  the  threatening  hand  away  from  his 
face.  "  That,"  he  remarked,  "  would  be  a  fitting  resi 
dence  for  you.  In  the  meantime,  we'll  put  it  out  of 
your  power  to  seek  the  nomination  from  that  quarter." 

He  left  the  room  abruptly,  returning  immediately 
with  Watkins.  He  carefully  closed  the  door  behind 
them.  Then  he  faced  the  two  men. 

"  Watkins,  it's  fortunate  that  you're  cashier  in  the 
treasurer's  office." 

Watkins  agreed. 

"  Because  from  this  minute  /  am  state  treasurer. 
Sherrod  will  be  allowed  to  sign  vouchers  that  I  ap 
prove  —  that's  all.  You  will  report  to  me  once  a  week 
in  person.  And  not  a  voucher  must  be  cashed  until 
O.  K.'d  by  me.  You  understand  ?  " 

Watkins  looked  at  Sherrod,  then  back  to  Murchell. 
He  nodded. 

"  Sherrod  will  do  nothing  to  disturb  this  arrange 
ment.  If  he  tries  —  let  me  know.  Good  day!" 

He  went  out  of  the  room,  quietly  closing  the  door. 

This  is  how  John  Heath,  of  whom  you  shall  hear 
more  anon,  put  his  finger  into  the  historical  pie.  Many 
will  not  believe  it.  But  it  happened,  just  as  you  have 
been  told. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

A  DESERTED  JORDAN 

WAR!  Which  is  all  that  General  Sherman  and 
Jeremy  Applegate  described  it.  And  civil  war, 
which  is  worse.  The  earth  shaking  under  the  feet  of 
many  armies.  The  populace  flocking  wonderingly 
about  two  great  camps,  between  them  a  mighty  breach 
that  might  never  be  healed.  And  O !  the  consternation 
in  the  royal  palace  when  news  came  that  the  belea 
guered  stronghold  had  fallen,  and  all  because,  no  one 
doubted,  the  Warwick  who  had  fled  from  his  castle  of 
exile  to  take  the  field  with  the  advancing  Lancastrians 
had  revealed  the  pregnable  place  in  the  city  wall !  The 
Michigan  had  won  into  the  Steel  City. 

Two  men  were  scrambling  over  each  other,  turning 
the  state  upside  down,  because  each  lusted  for  power 
and  hated  the  other.  Victory  by  either,  if  one  might 
judge  by  the  past,  meant  corruption,  thievery,  oppres 
sion,  injustice,  and  it  would  be  won  by  characteristic 
means.  The  people  knew  it. 

Between  the  two  camps  wandered  a  lonely  Voice, 
preaching  honesty,  decency,  liberty,  equity.  He  was 
worthy  to  preach.  He  was  the  sort  of  man  to  whom 
other  men  gladly  entrust  their  most  important  private 
affairs.  He  was  fitted  by  capacity,  by  study,  by  ideals, 
for  the  pure  function  of  government.  He  had  put 
aside  preferment,  money,  love  —  the  trio  of  rewards 

269 


2/o  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

for  any  one  of  which  men  daily  sell  their  souls  — 
that  he  might  be  the  fitter  for  his  task.  He  had  la 
bored  diligently,  with  enthusiasm,  then  steadfastly, 
then  doggedly,  believing  in  his  people  with  little  to 
justify  the  faith  that  was  in  him.  He  had  come  into 
the  full  splendor  of  manhood,  bearing  up  under  a  load 
of  discouragement  that  would  have  staggered  many 
strong  men. 

And  as  he  went  about  that  spring,  preaching  his  cru 
sade,  scanty  audiences  listened  carelessly  or  with  sus 
picion —  bred  of  many  deceptions  and  systematic 
miseducation ;  let  us  be  just  —  indifferently  responsive. 
One  who  had  reached  that  degree  of  discouragement 
where  he  had  ceased  to  seek  for  encouraging  signs 
might  well  have  believed  there  was  no  response.  He 
preached  purity ;  they  called  him  a  futile  dreamer.  He 
preached  honesty  and  common  sense;  they  said  he 
would  "  hurt  business."  And  Quaker  and  German 
and  Scotch-Irish  all  with  one  accord  lovingly  clutched 
their  dollars,  wagged  their  heads,  shrugged  their  shoul 
ders  and  veered  to  windward  of  him  as  though  he 
were  the  plague.  He  saw  the  last  vestige  of  youth 
slip  profitless  away.  A  stoop  came  into  his  shoulders 
that  ought  not  to  have  come  for  many  years,  a  sadness 
into  his  eyes.  Worst  of  all,  his  faith  began  to  waver, 
in  his  people,  in  himself,  in  his  ideal. 

He  was  in  the  Steel  City  one  night,  speaking  at  a 
public  meeting.  He  was  often  laughed  at  for  proffer 
ing  old-fashioned  oratory  in  the  day  of  the  ubiquitous 
newspaper.  But  it  was  the  only  way  in  which  he 
could  reach  the  people,  since  the  columns  of  the  sub 
sidized  press  were  not  open  to  him  or  his  crusade. 


A  DESERTED  JORDAN  271 

He  went  away  from  the  hall,  heavily  downcast.  The 
audience  had  been  small,  anything  but  enthusiastic, 
and  he  had  spoken  poorly.  There  is  no  discourage 
ment  like  unto  that  of  the  man  who  believes  he  has  a 
message  to  give  and  knows  that  he  has  delivered  it  in 
adequately. 

His  way  to  the  hotel  took  him  along  the  city's  prin 
cipal  street.  He  walked  slowly,  scrutinizing  the 
passers-by  with  that  interest  in  city  throngs  which 
the  country-bred  man  never  quite  loses.  He  came  to 
a  corner  where  another  crowded  thoroughfare  crossed. 
He  stopped  and  leaned  against  the  wall  of  the  bank 
that  stood  there.  A  score  or  more  arc  lights  turned 
night  into  day.  A  hundred  intermittent  electric  signs 
in  all  colors,  advertising  shoes,  soap,  dry  goods,  thea 
ters,  saloons  —  and  what  not  ?  —  cast  over  the  scene 
a  glamour  as  unreal  as  that  of  any  stage. 

The  theaters  were  just  letting  out,  and  around  him 
swirled  a  stream  of  humanity,  the  sound  of  many 
voices,  and  twice  as  many  feet  rising  in  a  peculiar,  un 
musical  roar.  All  sorts :  top-hatted  clubmen,  drab 
shopkeepers,  loudly-attired  clerks,  swaggering  youths, 
slouching  loafers  whose  intended  intoxication  was  as 
yet  only  half  accomplished;  on  their  arms  their  wives, 
their  sisters,  their  sweethearts,  their  harlots;  and  all 
in  a  hurry,  hastening  to  crowd  every  minute  of  every 
hour  full  —  to  forget?  He  thought  it  might  be  so. 
For  he  knew  that  throughout  the  day  these  men  all 
raced  madly  to  win  ahead  of  care;  perhaps  the  multi 
colored  night  was  the  same  mad  rush  to  forget  the 
gaunt  mistress.  He  caught,  as  he  always  did,  in  their 
eyes  a  look  one  sees  not  in  country  people  —  a  restless- 


272  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

ness,  a  f everishness,  an  intensity,  a  —  was  it  fear  ? 
He  thought  of  something  that  Haig,  who  knew  them, 
had  once  said. 

"  Gradual  reform  by  an  awakened  people?  By  the 
time  they're  awakened,  it'll  be  too  late.  It's  too  late 
now.  Because  why  —  the  cities  hold  the  balance  of 
power.  Do  you  know  that  in  the  cities  nine  hundred 
and  ninety-nine  are  directly  or  indirectly  dependent  on 
the  thousandth  for  their  incomes  ?  And  do  you  know 
that  there  are  six  men  who  can  bring  on  a  panic  on 
twenty- four  hours'  notice  —  not  a  toy  panic  such  as 
we've  had,  but  a  man-size  one  that  would  paralyze 
every  industry  in  every  city  of  the  nation?  The  same 
men  through  control  of  transportation  can  glut  or 
starve  the  cities  at  will.  If  the  people  get  cantanker 
ous,  all  they  need  to  do  is  to  turn  on  a  panic.  A 
city  man  at  best  has  no  more  sand  than  a  bunny  cot 
ton-tail.  Put  on  the  screws,  give  him  a  taste  of 
hunger,  then  promise  him  three  meals  a  day  if  he'll 
fall  in  line,  and  he  will  fall  in  line  or  — "  There  Haig 
had  stopped. 

"  Or  violent  revolution?  " 

"  I  hope  so.  But  —  have  you  ever  been  hungry?  " 
Here  Haig's  voice  had  grown  bitter.  "  I  don't  mean 
an  edge  to  your  appetite,  but  really  hungry,  with  the 
ache  in  your  belly,  the  dizziness  in  your  head  and  the 
weakness  crawling  up  your  legs.  I  have.  And  I  tell 
you,  it  makes  a  coward  out  of  the  strongest,  a  cringing 
cur,  who'll  beg  or  lick  the  foot  that  kicks  him,  for  a 
crust." 

"  But  they'd  never  dare  put  the  screws  on  in  that 
fashion!" 

"  Dare !  "  the  pessimist  had  sneered.     "  What  can 


A  DESERTED  JORDAN  273 

put  the  fear  of  God  or  man  into  the  heart  of  a  rich 
man?" 

John  wondered,  as  the  endless  stream  of  humanity 
swept  by  him,  if  that  were  true.  What,  if  the  screws 
were  put  on,  would  these  men  do  —  fight  or  submit  ? 

But  it  was  not  that  which  made  the  load  of  despond 
ency  hang  heavier.  Once,  seeing  a  thousand  men 
gathered  in  the  Square  at  home,  he  had  thought  of 
the  power  there,  "  the  power  and  the  glory."  Now 
he  saw  the  people,  not  in  their  immensity  but  in  their 
infinite  multiplicity:  so  many  men  with  so  many  in 
terests,  each  living  in  his  own  restricted  sphere  of 
linen-measuring,  iron-making,  cracker-selling,  pen- 
pushing,  money-changing,  seeing  only  his  own  worldlet 
and  its  needs,  able  to  brush  elbows  with  his  neighbor 
on  the  street  without  interest  or  sense  of  relation. 
Was  Haig  then  right  ?  How  could  a  dreamer,  or  a 
thousand  dreamers,  by  word  of  mouth  teach  these  men 
to  think  what  their  lives  taught  them  not  to  feel  — 
that  a  social  problem  was  their  problem,  that  political 
putrefaction  was  their  peril,  that  the  masses'  interest 
was  their  interest?  In  vain  he  recalled  historical  epi 
sodes  when  the  people,  for  brief  moments,  had  seemed 
to  thrill  with  a  sense  of  the  oneness  of  humanity  and 
its  common  need.  He  saw  only,  through  the  magnify 
ing  glass  of  many  disappointments,  their  infinite  multi 
plicity —  the  apparent  hopelessness  of  stamping  on 
their  consciousness  the  sense  of  intimate  relation  and 
social  responsibility  without  which  substantial  reform, 
genuine  progress,  were  empty  dreams. 

He  walked  on,  tortured  by  doubts,  yet  clinging,  as 
the  shipwrecked  mariner  clings  to  his  raft,  to  his 
dwindling  faith  in  the  people. 


274  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

As  he  was  passing  through  the  lobby  of  his  hotel 
the  clerk  motioned  him  to  the  desk.  "  Say,  there's 
been  a  big  tough  guy  in  three  times  to-night,  asking 
for  you.  Says  it's  important  and  he'll  be  back  again. 
Name  is  Maley.  I  guess,"  he  laughed,  knowing  his 
guest,  "  it's  some  political  bum  wanting  to  make  a 
touch." 

Butch  Maley,  doubtless!  John,  curious,  found  a 
seat  in  the  lobby  and  waited.  He  laughed  inwardly, 
not  pleasantly,  at  the  recollections  called  forth  by  the 
name,  which  he  had  almost  forgotten.  Butch  Maley, 
the  first  to  be  convicted  in  that  crusade  of  nearly  six 
years  ago  —  it  seemed  like  a  generation  —  had  been 
the  first  milestone  in  a  path,  the  end  of  which  the 
young  crusader  in  his  innocent  optimism  had  thought 
he  clearly  saw.  The  path  now  seemed  endless,  tor 
tuous  and  painful. 

He  had  not  long  to  wait.  Maley  was  the  same 
bestial  creature  who  had  demanded  money  at  the  rally, 
stood  trembling  in  the  dock  and  marched  away,  mouth 
ing  imprecations  and  large  threats,  to  the  penitentiary. 
Even  prison  life  could  not  leave  its  imprint  on  his 
coarse  fiber  or  further  taint  his  spirit.  He  swaggered 
still,  no  peril  confronting  him.  That  he  was  prosper 
ous,  the  yellow  diamond  in  his  necktie  loudly  pro 
claimed.  He  rolled  toward  John,  grinning  affably. 

"  Howdy,  Johnny  ?  "  He  did  not  offer  to  shake 
hands,  for  which  John  was  thankful,  although  he  was 
too  tired  in  spirit  to  resent  the  familiarity  of  the 
greeting. 

"  How  are  you,  Maley  ?  " 

"  Me?  "  Maley  drew  up  a  chair  and  deposited  his 
huge  bulk  in  it.  "  O,  I'm  livin'  on  Number  One,  Easy 


A  DESERTED  JORDAN  275 

Street.  These  here  is  good  times  fer  fellers  like  me." 
With  an  apparently  unconscious  gesture  he  lovingly 
stroked  his  paunch. 

"  So  I  should  say.     Same  old  profession?  " 

"  I  got  a  half  intrust  in  a  booze  joint.  That's  my 
business.  As  fer  profesh' —  I'm  still  a  statesman. 
Only  yuh'd  have  a  helluva  time  gittin'  the  goods  on 
me  now.  I  learnt,"  he  grinned,  "  a  lot  from  yuh." 

"  There  seems  to  be  a  demand  for  your  peculiar 
talents." 

"  They's  alwuz  a  chanct  fer  the  feller  wot's  out  fer 
the  coin  an'  ain't  squeamish.  Say,"  he  leaned  for 
ward  and  placed  a  propitiatory  hand  on  John's  knee. 
"  They  ain't  no  hard  f  eelin's,  is  they  ?  " 

"  Not  on  my  part." 

"  They  ain't  on  mine,  nuther,  not  now  anyways. 
'Cos,"  he  chuckled  coarsely,  "  I'm  wantin'  sump'n." 

"  What  can  I  do  for  you  ?  " 

"  'Tain't  fer  me."  He  assumed  an  air  of  extreme 
caution.  "  S'posin'  they  wuz  a  feller  wot  never  done 
yuh  no  dirt,  and  at  the  same  time,  not  bein'  in  yer 
game,  yuh  got  him  foul.  An'  then,  s'posin'  he  beat  it, 
not  wantin'  to  serve  time,  an'  then,  bein'  up  against  it 
in  a  pertickler  way,  he  wanted  to  see  yuh.  Would  yuh 
see  him?  " 

"  Slayton  or  Sheehan?  " 

"  Sheehan." 

"  I  guess  I'd  see  him.     Where  is  he?  " 

Maley  winked  solemnly.  "  I  don't  know  nuthin' 
till  I  know  yuh  won't  have  him  pinched.  That's  the 
point  —  will  yuh  have  him  pinched  ?  " 

John  thought  a  moment  before  replying.  "  Well. 
I  guess  I  wouldn't,  so  long  as  he  stays  out  of  my 


276  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

jurisdiction.  I  couldn't  make  him  more  harmless  now 
by  having  him  arrested." 

"  Is  this  all  on  the  level  ?  "  Maley  looked  at  John 
as  though  suspicious  of  this  prompt  concession. 

"  It  is." 

"  Then  go  in  the  little  room  back  o'  the  bar,  an'  I'll 
have  him  with  yuh  in  no  time.  He's  waitin',  not  fur 
away." 

Maley  swaggered  out  of  the  lobby  with  a  tri 
umphant  air  as  though  he  had  accomplished  some  deli 
cate  diplomatic  manoeuver.  John  made  his  way  into 
a  stuffy  little  room  behind  the  hotel  bar.  It  contained 
a  half  dozen  small  tables,  at  two  of  which  were  noisy, 
half-drunken  groups.  John  sat  down  at  the  table 
farthest  away  from  them  and  waited. 

Maley  was  as  good  as  his  word.  In  a  few  min 
utes  he  entered,  leading  the  fugitive.  There  was  an 
embarrassed  moment  as  John  rose  to  greet  the  man 
whom  he  had  broken.  He  hesitated,  hardly  knowing 
how  to  address  him.  Sheehan's  hand  started  forward 
in  an  uncertain  gesture,  then  dropped  back  to  his  side. 
On  a  kindly  impulse  John  held  out  his.  The  other 
caught  it  almost  eagerly  in  a  soft,  damp  clasp. 

"  I  hope  you  are  well,  Sheehan." 

"I  look  it,  don't  I?"  The  fugitive  gave  a  half 
hearted  laugh. 

John  was  obliged  to  confess  to  himself  that  he  did 
not  look  it.  If  to  Maley  conviction  and  imprisonment 
had  been  merely  an  unfortunate  accident  not  permitted 
to  disturb  the  serene  course  of  his  destiny,  Sheehan 
had  not  accepted  calamity  so  philosophically.  He  had 
suffered,  really  suffered,  John  thought;  he  bore  the 
marks.  His  cheeks,  once  so  rubicund,  were  sallow 


A  DESERTED  JORDAN  277 

and  pimply.  Flabby  pouches  had  gathered  under  his 
eyes,  which  were  furtively  restless,  as  though  contin 
ually  on  the  watch  for  some  pursuer.  He  was  fatter 
than  ever.  But  whereas  his  stomach  had  formerly 
been  of  the  graceful  rotundity  of  semi-active  prosper 
ity,  it  had  now  become  a  paunch,  like  unto  Maley's 
own.  But  it  was  the  fat  of  unhealth,  and  as  waist 
had  protruded  chest  had  fallen  in.  His  hands  shook 
slightly.  The  suffering  must  have  come  from  within, 
since  John  had  never  tried  very  hard  to  have  him 
traced  and  recaptured. 

"  Sit  down,"  said  Maley  hospitably,  "  an'  have  a 
drink  on  me." 

John  sat  down,  but  declined  the  drink.  Sheehan 
and  Maley  ordered  whisky.  While  they  were  waiting 
for  it,  there  was  another  awkward  moment,  during 
which  Maley  developed  a  loquacious  interest  in  the 
weather. 

The  whisky  seemed  to  restore  to  Sheehan  a  part  of 
his  nerve.  Without  further  preliminaries  he  blurted 
out,  "  I  want  to  go  back."  He  stopped,  as  though 
waiting  for  an  answer. 

John  waved  his  hand  and  remarked,  "  The  railroads 
are  still  running,"  a  pleasantry  that  seemed  lost  on 
Sheehan. 

"  It's  that  cursed  sentence  that's  troubling  me." 

"  That's  nuthin',"  Maley  interposed  cheerfully. 
"  It's  only  four  months  in  the  workhouse.  I  got  a 
year  in  the  pen."  His  tone  might  have  led  one  to  be 
lieve  him  boasting  of  a  distinction. 

"  I  should  think,"  said  John  gravely,  "  you  would 
find  it  almost  a  relief  to  have  it  served  and  over." 

"  So  I  would,"  answered  Sheehan,  with  an  emphatic 


278  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

sincerity  that  was  not  to  be  doubted.  "  But  I've  got  a 
family." 

"A  little  late  to  think  of  them,  isn't  it?  The  sen 
tence  would  have  to  be  served." 

"  It  wouldn't,  if  you  said  the  word." 

John  shook  his  head.  "  Besides,  I'll  not  be  district 
attorney  much  longer  and  my  successor  mightn't  be 
complaisant." 

Sheehan  leaned  over  the  table  and  clutched  John  by 
the  arm,  his  face  twitching  nervously.  "  I  guess  you 
think  fellers  like  me  haven't  got  any  heart?  Let  me 
tell  you  something.  I've  got  a  wife  and  two  kids  that 
I  think  as  much  of  as  if  I  was  an  educated  reformer. 
I  haven't  seen  them  in  nearly  five  years,  for  fear  you 
would  trail  me  through  them.  But  now  they're  in 
trouble.  Money  affairs  are  all  balled  up.  And  the 
wife's  got  to  go  under  an  operation  —  I  don't  know 
whether  she'll  pull  through  or  not.  I  ought  to  be 
there  to  take  care  of  them." 

A  doubtful  blessing  to  them,  John  thought,  study 
ing  the  dissipation-marred  countenance.  Still  he  was 
not  there  to  pass  on  Sheehan's  value  to  his  family. 
And  he  remembered  having  heard  that  in  former  days 
Sheehan  had  been  very  proud  and  fond  of  his  wife 
and  children  and  —  eccentric  virtue  among  his  kind  — 
faithful  to  them. 

"  I  didn't  think  you'd  let  me  off.  You  reformers," 
here  was  bitterness,  "  are  always  bent  on  sendin'  some 
body  to  jail.  But  will  you  do  this  —  give  me  two  or 
three  months,  until  the  wife  gets  out  of  the  hospital 
and  I've  got  things  straightened  out  some?  Then  I'll 
take  my  medicine." 

John  thought  rapidly.     In  the  beginning  of  his  cru- 


A  DESERTED  JORDAN  279 

sade  he  would  have  enforced  the  law  rigorously  and 
mercilessly,  believing  that  in  punishment  lay  healing 
virtue  for  the  state.  Now  he  had  learned  its  futility. 
And  the  broken  man  in  front  of  him  had  already  been 
punished  enough.  Surely  he  could  show  so  much 
leniency  and  harm  no  one. 

"  I'll  do  that  much  for  you,"  he  said.     "  Gladly." 

Sheehan  did  not  try  to  thank  him.  He  leaned  back 
in  his  chair,  sighing  as  though  from  his  shoulders  a 
heavy  load  had  fallen. 

"  And  if  you  need  any  legal  help,"  John  continued 
kindly,  "  in  straightening  out  your  affairs,  I'll  be  glad 
to  help  you." 

Sheehan  suddenly  sat  bolt  upright,  the  red  rushing 
to  his  sallow  face.  "  It's  that  sanctimonious  Blake," 
he  said  angrily.  "  He's  gettin'  after  me  because  they 
think  I'm  afraid  to  come  back.  Dirty  crook!  The 
bank's  tryin'  to  collect  some  old  notes  of  mine  that 
wasn't  supposed  to  be  paid." 

"Not  to  be  paid?     Why?" 

"  Political  notes.  Look  here ! "  Sheehan's  face 
lighted  up  in  a  slow,  cunning  smile  that  boded  no  good 
for  Warren  Blake.  "  Do  you  want  to  make  a  big 
pfay?" 

John,  too,  sat  up,  suddenly  alert.  "  Just  what  do 
you  mean  ?  " 

"  Have  you  been  percolatin'  around  in  politics  for 
six  years  an'  not  known  about  the  Farmers'  ?  There's 
always  a  few  easy  banks  for  the  politicians.  They 
get  state  deposits,  see?  An'  then  dish  them  out  to  the 
politicians  on  notes.  Sometimes  the  notes  are  paid  an' 
sometimes  they're  just  carried  along.  My  notes 
wasn't  to  be  paid,  because  I  helped  get  the  Farmers' 


280  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

its  deposits.  It  used  to  be  one  of  the  easy  banks. 
An'  I  guess  it  is  still.  Else  why  is  a  bank  that's 
friendly  to  Murchell  carryin'  deposits  under  Sherrod? 
I  guess  they  must  be  gettin'  pretty  shaky,  because  I 
ain't  the  only  one  they're  after.  I've  been  skirmishin' 
around  here,  seein'  some  men  I  used  to  know,  an'  they 
tell  me  Blake's  pushin'  a  good  many  old  notes  hard." 

"  But  Hampden  and  Blake,  with  their  stock, 
wouldn't  let — " 

"  Stock!  I  bet  they  haven't  ten  shares  apiece.  If 
you  want  to  find  that  stock,  you've  got  to  look  in  the 
tin  boxes  of  the  farmers  or  in  the  estates  of  the  wid 
ows  an'  orphans." 

"  But  their  last  report  was  fine." 

"  That's  easy.  You  just  carry  the  notes  as  assets. 
Assets!" 

"  See  here,  Sheehan !  "  John  was  stern.  "  Have 
you  anything  but  suspicion  for  this  ?  " 

"Ain't  suspicion,  the  kind  I've  got,  enough?  You 
go  after  'em  an'  show  'em  up.  I  bet  you'll  find  'em 
rotten.  Those  easy  banks  always  do  bust  up  sooner 
or  later.  I  s'pose  I've  got  to  pay.  I've  got  property 
an',  if  they  sue,  I  can't  make  any  defense.  But,"  he 
concluded  venge fully,  "  somebody  else  has  got  to  pay, 
too." 

"  Sheehan,"  John  said  coldly,  rising,  "  you're  letting 
your  desire  to  get  even  get  away  with  your  common 
sense.  I'll  not  destroy  confidence  in  a  bank,  ruin  it, 
by  going  after  it  on  mere  suspicion.  As  for  your 
self,"  he  added,  more  kindly,  "  if  you  report  at  my 
office  next  Saturday  morning  with  new  bail,  I'll  go  be 
fore  the  court  and  ask  that  execution  of  your  sentence 
be  postponed  until  your  affairs  are  easier." 


A  DESERTED  JORDAN  281 

With  that  he  left  them. 

He  went  up  to  his  room  on  the  top  floor  of  the  hotel. 
From  the  open  window  he  could  look  down  on  the 
street,  on  which  the  ebbing  tide  of  humanity  had  left 
its  deposit  of  drunken  men  and  late  pleasure-seekers. 
But  above  the  sound  of  their  voices  and  shuffling  feet, 
to  him  in  his  eyrie  came  the  ceaseless,  confused  roar  of 
the  life  and  toil  of  the  city,  speaking  its  awesome 
immensity,  its  epic  struggle  and  its  infinite  variety. 
Yet  this  was  but  a  fraction  of  the  complex,  incom 
prehensibly  vast  organism  which  he,  one  infinitesimal 
unit,  had  set  out  to  repair.  He  laughed  bitterly  in 
the  poignant  loneliness  which  has  ever  been  the  lot  of 
Voices. 

He  thought  also  of  what  Sheehan  had  said.  And  he 
was  not  so  unconvinced  as  might  have  seemed  from 
his  reproof  of  the  wanderer. 


CHAPTER  XX 

SHADOWS 

BUT  other  things  crowded  the  Farmers'  Bank  for 
the  time  out  of  his  mind. 

Only  a  few  days  remained  before  the  primaries. 
During  the  two  terms  of  office  he  had  acquitted  him 
self  with  skill  and  fidelity.  Fear  of  him  had  doubtless 
restrained  the  machine  from  many  characteristic  depre 
dations,  but  victory  was  well-nigh  hopeless.  He  had 
become  a  candidate  again  only  that  the  fight  might  go 
on,  in  the  faint  hope  that  something  might  occur  to 
turn  the  tide  in  his  favor.  In  the  absence  of  the  un 
foreseen  he  would  carry  the  townships  by  a  slight  ma 
jority,  but  New  Chelsea  and  Plumville  'would  go 
strongly  against  him.  The  little  city  had  grown  re 
markably  in  population  and  importance.  A  Sheehan 
could  not  have  controlled  it;  the  day  of  bosses  of  his 
sort,  primitive,  merely  brutal  and  dishonest,  had 
passed.  But  Greene,  his  successor,  was  of  the  newer 
and  more  dangerous  type,  subtle,  secretive,  resource 
ful,  cautious,  permitting  no  untimely  excesses,  careful 
to  bind  the  business  interest  of  the  city  to  his  ambi 
tion. 

For  three  years  he  had  been  educating  Plumville  for 
this  campaign.  He  could  employ  that  most  effective 
of  all  political  weapons,  ridicule.  Who  had  given 
John  Dunmeade  a  life  mortgage  on  his  office  ?  What 

282 


SHADOWS  283 

was  he  anyhow  but  a  kicker,  a  sorehead,  a  perpetual 
office-seeker,  a  fanatic,  a  fourflusher,  a  demagogue? 
What  had  he  done  during  the  six  years  of  his  noise- 
making  in  the  county  and  state?  Greene  shot  to  the 
mark  here.  Plumville,  like  most  of  the  American  peo 
ple,  despised  unsuccess.  And  John  was  an  old  story 
in  which  it  had  lost  interest.  It  got  the  impression 
that  in  turning  deaf  ears  to  his  plea  it  was  righteously 
squelching  a  shallow,  impudent,  self-seeking  upstart. 

Even  among  the  farmers  John  met  with  the  unre- 
sponsiveness  of  discouragement.  They  would  vote 
for  him,  most  of  them,  but  it  would  be  perfunctorily, 
hopelessly.  They  were  disappointed.  The  reform 
that  had  begun  so  auspiciously  six  years  before  was 
ending  in  dismal  failure,  with  no  other  fruit  than  to 
evolve  a  new  and  stronger  machine.  John  was  no 
longer  a  herp.  He  could  not  be  the  man  they  had 
thought  him ;  else  would  he  not  now  be  triumphant  in 
stead  of  in  the  last  ditch? 

Not  even  the  unexpected  reappearance  of  Sheehan, 
reminder  of  former  victories,  could  revive  enthusi 
asm.  Sheehan  had  been  almost  forgotten,  he  had  lost 
his  significance.  About  the  only  interest  he  aroused 
was  hostile  criticism  because  John  had  been  so  soft 
hearted  as  to  consent  to  postponement  of  sentence. 

Well  it  was  for  John's  melting  trust  in  himself  and 
his  fellows  that  he  could  meet  an  occasional  Cran- 
shawe  or  Sykes  or  Criswell.  Their  faith  survived. 

He  met  the  trio,  the  night  before  the  primaries,  at 
Cranshawe's  home  on  the  pike.  They  did  not  pre 
tend  a  vain  optimism;  they  knew  that  they  faced  de 
feat. 

"  At  any  rate,"  remarked  Criswell,  at  the  close  of 


284  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

the  discussion,  "  ye've  had  six  years  of  good  fight- 
in'." 

He  spoke  as  though  it  were  the  end. 

"  Why,  so  we  have  —  six  good,  full  years !  "  said 
John  with  an  assumption  of  cheerfulness  that  he  did 
not  feel  and  that  did  not  deceive. 

"  I  guess,"  said  Cranshawe  kindly,  "  ye  think  it 
hasn't  paid.  In  one  way  mebby  it  hasn't.  An'  then 
again  in  another  it  has.  It's  like  what  I  once  told  ye. 
Ye've  showed  us  the  way.  If  we  hain't  follered,  it's 
our  own  lookout.  Ye've  done  your  part." 

"  Ye  have,"  agreed  Sykes  solemnly. 

And  when  he  left,  all  three  made  a  point  of  shaking 
hands  with  him. 

"  There,"  said  Cranshawe,  as  the  three  stood  in  the 
stable  yard,  Sykes  and  Criswell  making  ready  to  go 
their  ways ;  "  there  goes  a  man  that's  ready  to  quit. 
It's  been  a  long  time  comin',  but  it's  come  sudden.  It 
begun  1^st  winter.  I  guess  we've  got  to  wait  for  an 
other  leader." 

"  Don't  blame  him,"  said  Criswell  briefly. 

"D'ye  know  what  I  think?"  Sykes'  high,  nasal 
voice  rose  shrilly.  "  Damn  the  Amurrican  people  — • 
that's  what  I  think.  They  ain't  fitten  fur  self-govern 
ment.  They  ain't  fitten  to  foller  an  honest  leader. 
I'm  done." 

"  I  won't  go  so  fur  as  to  swear  about  it,"  echoed 
Criswell.  "  But  that's  my  sentiments." 

They  drove  away.  'Ri  Cranshawe  stood  looking 
up  to  the  stars.  In  their  faint  light  the  big,  toil- 
hardened  body  towered  majestic,  a  figure  of  strength 
and  patience  —  and  faith. 

"  How  long,  O  Lord,  how  long?  " 


SHADOWS  285 

In  the  bank,  behind  closed  blinds,  Warren  Blake 
was  working  at  his  desk.  He  had  been  seen  coming 
out  of  the  bank  every  night  for  weeks.  It  did  not 
cause  comment.  It  was  like  Warren  Blake,  people 
thought,  to  be  working  early  and  late.  No  one  who 
had  not  the  key  would  have  detected  in  the  widened 
eyes  and  imperceptibly  twitching  nostrils  a  hint  of  the 
racking  anxiety  within.  His  pallor  would  have  been 
attributed  to  the  garish  gaslight  overhead.  Quite  de 
liberately  he  added  up  the  column  of  figures  before 
him.  They  spelled  his  crime. 

Very  cleverly,  very  characteristically,  he  had  gone 
about  it.  Hampden,  he  knew,  caught  in  the  big  deal 
into  which  Warren  had  followed  him,  had  drifted  into 
it;  had  hardly  realized,  as  in  the  heat  of  necessity  he 
asked  the  cashier  to  certify  checks  for  which  there 
were  no  funds,  that  it  was  crime.  Not  so  with  War 
ren.  In  cold  blood,  with  a  nice  calculation  of  the 
chances,  he  had  stepped  over  the  line  that  he  had  never 
before  crossed.  Once  over,  he  had  gone  far.  It  had 
been  a  gambler's  chance,  the  kind  that  many  men  take 
safely,  and,  when  taken,  had  seemed  all  in  his  favor. 
But  now  the  luck  was  running  the  other  way.  If  the 
market  sagged  further,  he  would  be  done  for. 

No  one,  if  told,  would  have  believed  why  he  had 
done  it  —  because  the  bank  was  breaking  anyhow 
under  the  load  of  worthless  paper,  most  of  it  a  legacy 
from  his  predecessor,  and  only  a  great  deal  of  money 
could  save  it.  It  had  been  his  pride  to  carry  along  an 
institution  for  the  shakiness  of  which  he  was  not  re 
sponsible;  it  had  become  his  life.  He  had  risked  all, 
even  his  own  little  carefully  accumulated  fortune,  to 
save  all,  though  he  had  made  it  a  point  of  honor  not 


286  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

to  risk  the  trust  properties  in  his  keeping, —  he  some 
how  made  a  distinction.  It  struck  him  now  as  a  most 
absurd  reason.  He  felt  vaguely  that  to  a  normal  man 
there  would  have  been  something  almost  mirth-pro 
voking  in  it.  But  then,  he  reflected,  he  seemed  to  be 
different  from  any  man  he  had  ever  known. 

If  the  market  should  sag,  how  should  he  pay? 
Hampden,  though  bankrupt,  would  be  able  to  work  out 
of  the  hole;  he  could  always  get  money  somewhere. 
But  Hampden  could  not,  hence  would  not  try  to,  save 
both.  How  then  should  he,  Warren  Blake,  pay? 
With  shame,  certainly.  With  money  —  out  of  the 
question.  How  should  he  pay?  He  carefully  tore 
the  paper  into  tiny  bits  and  threw  them  into  the  waste- 
basket.  He  had  no  need  to  preserve  the  record.  The 
figures  were  burned  into  his  memory.  He  rose  to 
put  the  books  away  in  the  vault. 

If  the  market  should  sag!  .  .  .  Suddenly  came 
to  him  the  sure  foreknowledge  that  it  would  sag.  For 
an  instant  panic  filled  him.  The  books  fell  with  a  crash 
from  his  nerveless  arms.  He  stared  wildly.  How 
should  he  pay?  .  .  .  Then  he  recovered  himself. 
He  picked  up  the  books  and  bore  them  to  the  vault. 

He  put  the  books  in  their  places,  then  began  fum 
bling  around  a  dusty  shelf  in  a  dark  corner  of  the 
vault  until  his  fingers  found  and  drew  forth  an  oblong 
pasteboard  box.  He  opened  it  and  looked  at  what 
lay  within.  He  took  it  out  and  played  with  it.  The 
gleaming,  blue-black  thing  seemed  to  hold  a  horrible 
fascination  for  him.  It  cost  him  an  effort  to  put  it 
away. 

He  set  the  time-lock,   closed  the  vault.     Then  he 


SHADOWS  287 

went  to  a  sink  and  carefully  washed  the  dust  from  his 
hands.     Afterward  he  went  into  the  street. 

John  Dunmeade,  having  reached  home,  put  his  horse 
away  in  the  stable.  It  was  past  eleven  o'clock  and  he 
was  tired.  But  he  was  not  sleepy  and  he  hated  to  go 
in  out  of  the  clear,  still  night.  So  he  strolled  up-town, 
intending  to  have  a  pipe  with  Haig  before  going  to 
bed.  His  way  took  him  past  the  bank  just  as  Warren 
stepped  out  The  latter  stopped. 

"  Hello,  Warren." 

"  Good  evening,  John." 

"  Working  late,  aren't  you?  " 

"  I  often  do."  He  hesitated.  "  Are  you  out  for  a 
walk?" 

"Down  to  Haig's.  Will  you  go  along?"  John 
asked  politely. 

"  A  part  of  the  way,  if  you  don't  mind.  Some 
times,  when  I've  been  —  working  hard,  I  like  to  talk 
to  someone  to  forget  myself." 

John  stared.     "  Can  you  ?  " 

"  Forget  myself  ?     Not  readily.     Can  you?" 

"  Well,  now  you  raise  the  question,  I  don't  suppose 
I  can.  I  don't  suppose  any  of  us  can,  this  side  of 
intoxication."  John  laughed  as  he  said  it. 

"  Was  there  anything  funny  in  what  I  said?  " 

John  achieved  gravity  with  some  difficulty.  "  Why, 
no,  Warren,  not  that  I'm  aware  of.  I  just  had  a 
vision  of  the  pride  of  New  Chelsea  going  on  a  jag  in 
order  to  forget  himself  —  and  of  course  I  laughed." 

"  But  I  did  once." 

"You  did!" 


288  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

"  Only  once.  The  next  day  I  had  to  think  of  my 
self  harder  than  ever."  Warren's  tone  was  absolutely 
matter-of-fact.  John  laughed  harder  than  before. 

"  There's  something,"  Warren  continued  imperturb- 
ably,  "  I've  always  wanted  to  ask  you.  Why  do  you 
laugh  at  me?  " 

"  Eh  ?  Why,  Warren  —  why,  'pon  my  word,  I 
don't  know.  And  really,"  John  added  quickly,  "  I 
haven't  laughed  at  you  lately.  I  used  to,  because  you 
took  yourself  so  seriously.  But  recently  I've  con 
tracted  the  same  bad  habit  —  so  I  can't  afford  to  laugh 
at  others.  I  hope  you  haven't  been  offended  ?  " 

"  I'm  not  offended,"  Warren  answered  quietly. 
"  I'm  merely  envious.  You  always  seem  able  to  laugh, 
however  things  go  with  you.  I  suppose  it's  a  good 
thing  to  be  able  to  laugh  externally,  even  if  one  doesn't 
feel  really  mirthful.  People  who  can  do  it  seem  to 
find  in  it  an  escape  valve  when  the  pressure  is  too 
high."  And,  as  if  to  change  the  subject,  he  asked, 
"  What  are  the  prospects  for  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  The  primaries  ?  Bad.  In  fact,  they  couldn't  be 
worse." 

"  I  thought  as  much.  I'm  sorry.  I'd  like  to  see 
you  win." 

John  was  thoroughly  surprised.  "  I  supposed  your 
sympathies  were  with  the.  other  side." 

"  I've  always  voted  for  you."  Warren  reverted 
suddenly  to  their  former  topic.  "  You  ought  to  take 
yourself  seriously  —  because  others  take  you  seri 
ously." 

"  They  form  a  distinguished  minority,  however," 
John  said  grimly. 

"  Your  enemies.     I  judge  by  the  violence  of  their 


SHADOWS  289 

attacks.  I  should  say  you  are  one  of  the  men  who 
have  won  the  secret  respect  of  their  enemies." 

John  said  nothing. 

"  I  think,"  Warren  went  on,  "  I  understand  that  si 
lence.  You're  thinking  of  the  people,  who  have 
turned  you  down.  When  we  offer  in  good  faith  and 
affection  a  friendship  or  a  service  to  another  or  to  a 
people  and  it  is  rejected  with  ridicule  and  misunder 
standing,  that  hurts.  You  think  you're  going  to  quit, 
I  imagine.  But  do  you  think  you  can?  There  are 
calls  to  which  one  can't  say  no.  Sometimes  it's  weak 
ness  and  often  it's  strength  —  the  strength  of  some 
thing  outside,  stronger  than  ourselves." 

John  smiled  in  the  darkness.  "  I've  heard  you  could 
reconcile  the  doctrines  of  free  will  and  foreordination. 
But  I  didn't  know  you  were  a  fatalist." 

"  Is  that  fatalism  ?  I  don't  know,"  Warren  said 
calmly.  "  I  don't  think  you  will  quit.  What  a  man 
is  fitted  for,  he  must  do,  whether  he  wants  to  or  not. 
You  are  fitted  for  public  service.  You  have  some 
thing  apart  from  mere  intellect  and  ability,  and,  far 
rarer,  the  capacity  to  feel  what  we  all  accept  in  theory 
but  not  in  fact  —  your  relation  to  other  men.  I  wish 
I  could  feel  —  could  have  felt  it.  Whatever  gave  you 
that  fine  sixth  sense  won't  let  you  quit.  It  will  carry 
you  to  the  end  —  through  weakness  and  strength." 

Something  in  the  man's  voice  rather  than  in  what 
he  said  arrested  John's  interest.  "  Do  you  really 
think  that,  Warren  ?  " 

"  There  are  things  that  one  knows." 

They  halted,  having  reached  the  home  of  Silas 
Hicks,  where  Haig  had  his  rooms.  The  cigar  War 
ren  had  been  smoking  had  gone  out.  He  struck  a 


290  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

match  to  relight  it.  He  held  the  flaming  taper  before 
him  for  an  instant  longer  than  was  necessary  and 
John  could  see  his  face.  It  was  composed  but  pale, 
the  eyes  extraordinarily  bright. 

The  match  fell,  burnt  out.  "  This  is  the  second 
thing  I  have  known  to-night.  I'm  glad  to  have  had 
the  chance  to  say  it.  And  I  hope  you  will  remem 
ber  that  I  said  it  —  and  that  I  wish,  have  always 
wished  you  well. —  But  I  am  keeping  you.  Good 
night."  He  walked  on. 

"  Good  night.  And  thank  you,  Warren,"  John 
called  after  him. 

He  did  not  go  up  to  Haig's  rooms.  Instead,  he 
turned  and  walked  slowly  homeward,  thinking  of  what 
Warren  Blake  had  said  and  of  the  man  who  had  said 
it 

Primary  day ! 

From  one  end  of  the  state  to  the  other  the  battle 
raged  between  red  rose  and  white.  When  darkness 
put  an  end  to  the  sanguinary  conflict,  both  sides  were 
claiming  and  neither  side  had  the  victory.  The  issue 
must  be  removed  for  decision  to  the  convention. 

Benton  County,  a  Murchell  stronghold,  chose  its 
complement  of  delegates  instructed  for  the  Honorable 
G.  Washington  Jenkins.  Also  it  gave,  as  it  thought, 
John  Dunmeade  his  quietus. 

Senator  Murchell  and  his  guest,  Jenkins,  received 
the  returns  at  the  former's  home.  During  the  even 
ing  Greene  drove  down  from  Plumville.  Jeremy  Ap- 
plegate,  too,  was  there,  not  overwhelmed  as  he  should 
have  been  by  the  honor,  to  help  tabulate  reports. 
Other  politicians  of  the  county  dropped  in,  smoking 


SHADOWS  291 

Murchell's  cigars  and  feeling  very  important  in  the 
nearness  to  their  general  and  distinguished  neighbor. 

Once,  about  midnight,  Jeremy  answered  a  ring  of 
the  desk  telephone,  listened  to  the  message  and  hung 
up  the  receiver  without  saying  a  word. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  asked  some  one. 

"  John  Dunmeade's  beaten,"  Jeremy  answered 
shortly. 

Greene  smiled  contentedly.  Murchell  looked  at  the 
clerk. 

"  Don't  seem  overjoyed,  Jeremy?  " 

Jeremy  muttered  something  unintelligible,  his  eyes 
on  the  desk. 

"What  did  you  say?"  Murchell  leaned  over,  as 
though  to  listen  more  closely,  smiling  quizzically. 

Jeremy  pushed  back  his  chair  and  got  to  his  feet. 
He  faced  Murchell. 

"  I  was  sayin',"  he  said  quaveringly,  "  I  was  sayin', 
it's  a  damn  shame."  Then,  as  he  looked  at  the  other 
old  man,  who  had  won  the  trophies  as  well  as  endured 
the  service  of  the  game,  all  the  smoldering  resent 
ment  of  years  blazed  forth.  The  worn  old  body  and 
the  cracked,  shrill  voice  shook  with  passion.  "  Over 
joyed?  No,  I  ain't  overjoyed.  If  you  want  to  know, 
I  voted  fur  him.  It's  the  only  man's  job  I  ever  done 
since  I  come  to  be  your  heeler.  You've  beaten  an' 
broken  him,  the  best  man  this  county  ever  had  an' 
—  an'  you  can  have  me  kicked  out  of  my  job,  if  you 
like." 

The  politicians  were  too  amazed  at  this  unbelieva 
ble  instance  of  lese  majeste  even  to  laugh.  Open- 
mouthed,  they  watched  him  as,  quivering  with  defiance 
and  the  hate  of  the  oppressed,  he  glared  at  Murchell 


292  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

much  as  in  a  former  time  he  must  have  confronted 
the  gray  charge.  Only  Greene's  smile  continued. 

They  expected  nothing  less  than  that  the  lightnings 
would  blast  Jeremy  where  he  stood.  Hence,  inten 
sified  stupefaction  when  Murchell  said  gravely, 
"  Jeremy,  you'd  better  go  home.  We'll  talk  about 
your  job  another  time." 

The  old  clerk  turned  and  slowly  stumped  out  of  the 
room. 

"  Jeremy,"  commented  the  senator,  "  seems  to  have 
unearthed  an  unsuspected  backbone." 

The  politicians,  uncertain  whether  this  was  senatorial 
humor  or  not,  chose  silence  as  the  course  of  discre 
tion. 

Later  still,  after  the  small  fry  had  left,  came  the 
news  that  the  Democratic  party  had  freed  itself  and 
that  Jerry  Brent  would  control  its  convention;  which 
meant  that  he  would  be  nominated  for  governor. 
And  this  was  matter  for  grave  concern.  Until  nearly 
morning  the  three  men  discussed  candidates.  The 
tenor  of  their  conversation  seemed  to  indicate  that 
Wash  Jenkins  was  not  assured  of  the  Murchell  sup 
port.  Nor  did  he  seem  unduly  resentful  because  of  this 
fact.  Wash  was  a  model  retainer,  humbly  willing  to 
take  what  he  could  get. 

It  was  in  the  course  of  this  discussion  that  Senator 
Murchell  said,  "If  John  Dunmeade  weren't  such  a 
stubborn  fool,  he  would  be  just  the  man  to  meet  Brent 
with."  He  spoke  angrily. 

Greene  and  Jenkins  gave  respectful  if  surprised  as 
sent. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

GOLDEN    FLEECE 

EVEN  the  city  seemed  to  feel  and  respond  to  June. 
One  might  have  detected  a  slight  retardation  of 
the  hurrying  of  the  streets,  a  relaxation  of  care-taut 
faces.  Men  walked  with  coats  flapping  open  to  the 
warm  breeze,  straw  hats  at  jaunty  angles.  Messenger 
boys  dawdled  and  whistled,  discussed  blithely  the 
Steel  City's  prospects  for  the  pennant.  Amid  the 
roar  of  traffic  and  a  multitude  of  shuffling  feet  the 
twittering  of  the  ubiquitous  sparrow  rose  incongru 
ously. 

But  in  the  financial  district  was  no  relaxation.  In 
the  exchange  was  a  howling,  frenzied  mob,  struggling 
desperately  to  speed  advancing  fortune  or  to  retain 
that  which  was  vanishing.  Clerks  walked  with  nerv 
ous  haste  from  'change  to  office,  to  bank,  talked  in 
the  loud  voice  of  hysteria.  Occasionally  from  some 
broker's  office,  a  man  would  emerge,  unnoticed  in  the 
general  excitement,  dazed  and  stumbling  or  walking 
swiftly  as  though  in  flight  from  some  terrible  mon 
ster.  He  would  be  one  of  those  caught  in  the  Ala 
bama  Iron  and  Coal  squeeze. 

A  glutton,  by  methods  that  would  have  done  credit 
to  the  robber  barons,  had  raped  the  treasure  developed 
by  weaker  brethren.  And  now  greater  barons,  more 
gluttonous,  springing  upon  him  in  an  unguarded  mo- 

293 


294  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

ment,  by  like  methods  were  tearing  the  spoils  from  his 
grasp.  But  no  one  saw  a  joke.  Before  it  could  end 
two  great  banking-houses  would  be  bankrupt,  at  least 
one  daring,  arrogant  speculator  sensationally  ruined 
and  a  thousand  little  greedy  ones  made  penniless. 

The  mad  scramble  rose  to  a  climax.  In  his  office 
the  man  who  was  the  storm  center  stood  over  the 
ticker.  He  had  struggled,  with  the  unthinking  valor 
born  of  desperation,  against  the  unwavering,  relent 
less  attacks  made  upon  him.  They  had  forced  him 
back,  farther  and  still  farther  back  to  his  inner  lines 
of  defense,  into  the  last  ditch.  Driven  out  of  that, 
he  had  made  a  last  vain  stand.  Now  he  awaited  the 
slaughter.  He  glared  fixedly  at  the  tape  in  his  hand. 
There  was  not  a  quiver  in  his  strong,  stocky  body,  but 
his  mouth  was  distorted  in  an  unconscious  evil  grimace 
that  bared  his  teeth,  as  the  coiling  tape  recorded  his 
ruin. 

Suddenly  the  fixity  broke  up  in  an  insane,  helpless 
rage  that  demanded  physical  expression.  From  his 
twisted  mouth  came  an  inarticulate,  wolfish  cry. 
With  a  convulsive  jerk  he  snapped  off  the  tape,  kicked 
the  ticker  until  it  fell  with  a  crash.  A  clerk  in  the 
outer  office  heard  the  noise  and  rushed  in ;  immediately, 
frightened  by  what  he  saw,  he  withdrew,  closing  the 
door  behind  him. 

Stephen  Hampden  was  not  good  to  look  upon  as  he 
rushed  up  and  down  the  room,  striking  and  kicking 
at  the  objects  in  his  way.  In  an  instant,  it  seemed, 
all  the  veneer  of  humanity  and  self-control  had  been 
stripped  from  him.  He  had  become  stark  savage,  a 
primitive  beast  balked  of  his  prey.  His  face  was 
purple,  convulsed;  he  poured  out  unintelligible  im- 


GOLDEN  FLEECE  295 

precations  on  the  "  curs,"  the  "  crooks,"  the  "  traitors" 
who  had  broken  him.  He  had  no  thought  for  those 
upon  whom  he  in  his  turn  had  fallen.  He  was  ob 
sessed  by  the  passion  of  his  defeat. 

The  paroxysm  spent  itself.  He  flung  himself, 
panting  and  still  glaring,  into  a  chair.  The  telephone 
rang.  He  paid  no  attention  to  it. 

The  clerk,  trembling,  opened  the  door.  "  You're 
wanted  on  long  distance,  Mr.  Hampden.  It's  — " 

"  I  won't  talk  to  them!  "  Hampden  snarled  back. 

The  clerk  withdrew.  Hampden  made  an  effort  to 
recover  himself,  to  steady  his  whirling  brain.  His 
rage  had  left  him  weak  and  shaking  all  over. 

The  clerk  reappeared.  "  Beg  pardon,  Mr.  Hamp 
den,"  he  insisted  timidly,  "  but  it's  Mr.  Blake  of  New 
Chelsea.  He  says  he  must  talk  to  you." 

"What's  the  fool  want?" 

"I  — I  don't  know,  sir." 

"  All  right."  Hampden  caught  up  the  telephone. 
He  waited  until  the  click  told  him  that  the  clerk's  re 
ceiver  had  been  hung  up,  then  snapped.  "  This  is 
Hampden.  What  do  you  want?  " 

The  precaution  was  unnecessary.  The  message  was 
strangely  worded ;  it  would  have  meant  nothing  to  an 
outsider.  But  Hampden  had  the  key. 

He  hung  up  the  receiver.  And  for  a  moment  he 
allowed  himself  to  be  beaten  down.  Fear  before  a 
danger  incurred  in  the  heat  of  battle,  and  now  become 
imminent,  terrible,  through  the  folly  of  another,  ousted 
rage.  Mere  defeat,  bankruptcy,  paled  before  this  new 
penalty  which  he  must  pay.  And  fear  steadied  him, 
cleared  his  brain.  He  wasted  no  time  in  futile  re 
grets.  His  mind  darted  hither  and  thither,  swift  and 


296  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

calculating,  pondering  and  rejecting  a  hundred  ave 
nues  of  escape  from  the  peril  which  must  be  averted 
before  he  could  set  out  to  recoup  his  losses.  There 
was  no  thought  of  saving  Warren  Blake  —  only  him 
self. 

Late  in  the  day  he  went  out  —  to  beg  the  mercy 
he  had  never  shown. 

Katherine  Hampden  was  alone  that  evening.  She 
was  often  alone  nowadays,  but  not  entirely  because, 
as  she  had  told  John  Dunmeade,  she  had  been  as 
signed  a  berth  on  the  shelf  reserved  for  unmarriagea- 
ble  females.  There  were  many  men  who  would  have 
gladly  undertaken  to  relieve  her  solitude.  But  these 
found  her  extremely  unapproachable.  Those  whom 
she  would  have  welcomed  most  gladly  had  least  time 
for  dalliance  in  drawing-rooms.  Among  her  own  sex 
she  had  less  opportunity  for  companionship.  The 
women  of  her  uncertain  set  regarded  her  as  "  strong- 
minded  "  and  a  little  queer ;  in  their  barbed  gossip 
they  attributed  her  queerness  to  failure  to  effect  a 
well-advertised  and  socially  advantageous  marriage. 
She  in  turn,  not  unaware  of  their  attitude,  regarded 
them  as  tawdry,  trifling  creatures,  wholly  negligible, 
a  feeling  which  she  had  the  good  sense  not  to  put 
into  speech.  She  herself  was  secretly  skeptical  of  the 
strong-mindedness  so  doubtfully  looked  upon,  but  she 
was  sufficiently  vigorous  of  mind  honestly  to  face  the 
truth. 

Very  gradually,  very  logically,  in  no  dramatic  fash 
ion,  had  it  dawned  upon  her. 

And  the  truth  was  —  she  was  disappointed.  Ma- 
turer  perception,  quickened  by  a  glimpse  of  a  different 


GOLDEN  FLEECE  297 

ideal  of  life,  had  seen  beyond  the  false  setting  of 
romance  behind  which  men  seek  to  hide  the  ugliness 
of  the  scramble  for  gold.  She  saw  that  scramble 
as  it  is,  not  the  splendid  instinct  of  a  strong 
man  joying  in  the  match  of  strength  against 
strength,  but  unlovely,  inordinate  greed,  before 
which  a  man's  soul  shrivels  as  dry  grass  be 
fore  the  prairie  fire.  She  had  learned,  too,  that 
in  the  life  was  no  place  for  her  save  that  of  spender, 
of  a  lay  figure  upon  whom  the  scrambler  could  hang 
his  trophies  for  exhibition.  She  would  have  mar 
ried  Gregg,  had  it  not  been  for  this  and  for  the 
fact  that  the  acid  of  his  calling  was  etching  more  and 
more  clearly  upon  his  frank,  clean  exterior  a  picture 
of  what  lay  within.  As  it  was,  she  had  sent  him 
away. 

The  very  vitality  which  a  few  years  before  had 
demanded  splendor  of  outlook  and  environment  now 
required  usefulness  of  her.  Hence  membership  in 
those  boards  and  committees  of  which  she  had  spoken 
so  lightly  to  John  Dunmeade  had  been  sought,  with 
a  smile  for  their  triviality,  not  thrust  upon  her  as  a 
social  memento  mori.  But  health  and  vigor  of  body 
and  mind  called,  not  merely  for  occupation,  but  for 
something  vital  to  do.  And  that  her  life  did  not 
provide. 

She  was  waiting  for  her  father's  home-coming. 
While  she  waited,  she  glanced  through  the  evening 
paper.  In  it  the  day's  doings  on  the  stock  exchange 
were  featured.  The  account  had  it  that  Hampden 
had  been  hard  hit,  even  vaguely  hinted  that  he  might 
have  to  fail.  She  was  amazed  at  the  lack  of  emotion 
with  which  she  read  that  their  fortune,  hitherto  so 


298  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

potent  and  all-sufficing,  had  in  a  day  been  sadly  shaken, 
if  not  totally  destroyed.  She  tried  to  picture  to  herself 
what  it  must  mean  to  them  —  the  economies,  the  pri 
vations  even,  the  loss  of  caste  among  a  set  that 
measured  worth  by  stocks  and  bonds.  Somehow  the 
picture  could  not  profoundly  alarm;  partly,  perhaps, 
because  she  knew  too  little  of  want  to  draw  convin 
cingly.  She  could  not  even  feel  deeply  for  her  father, 
although  she  had  for  him  a  genuine  daughter's 
affection  and  knew  what  a  blow  failure  would  be  to 
him. 

"Poor  father!"  she  smiled,  half  pityingly.  "I 
suppose  nothing  can  persuade  him  that  it  isn't  a  hor 
rible  calamity.  I  ought  to  feel  so,  too,  but  —  Heigho ! 
is  this  Katherine  Hampden?" 

She  went  on  turning  the  pages  of  the  paper,  until 
her  casual  glance  was  caught  by  a  familiar  name  in 
a  satirical  editorial  under  the  caption,  "  A  Fool 
Errant."  The  fool  errant  was  John  Dunmeade,  re 
cently  —  and  happily,  in  the  editor's  opinion  —  dis 
posed  of  at  the  primaries.  She  began  to  read.  There 
was  really  nothing  to  the  effusion  more  than  a  few  bit 
ing  witticisms  at  the  expense  of  a  beaten  man,  but  the 
lack  of  pith  and  logic  did  not  lessen  the  sting.  Kath 
erine  did  not  read  to  the  end.  She  suddenly  tossed  the 
paper  aside  and  sat  bolt  upright,  a  fair  presentment 
of  wrath,  quite  unconscious  that  she  was  flushing  an 
grily. 

"What  a  shame!" 

Then  the  color  deepened  suddenly,  and  for  another 
reason.  Memory  had  recalled  to  her  something  she 
had  once  said  to  this  man.  "  When  you  were  a 
broken-down,  middle-aged  failure.  ...  I  should 


GOLDEN  FLEECE  299 

be  looking  up  at  the  men  who  were  conquering. 
.  .  .  And  I  should  regret." 

Well,  her  prophecy  had  been  fulfilled  sooner  than 
she  had  expected.  He  had  been  cast  aside,  even  by 
his  own  neighbors.  She  remembered  how  he  had 
seemd  to  her  when  they  had  so  unexpectedly  met, — 
patently  discouraged,  a  man  upon  whom  defeat  had 
set  ineffaceable  marks,  and  yet  for  all  that,  with 
something  large  and  fine  about  him  which  forbade 
pity  and  commanded  respect,  made  even  such  men  as 
Gregg,  with  their  vitiated  ideals,  want  to  do  him  favors 
"  on  general  principles." 

"  To  think  that  I  could  have  said  that  to  him !  "  she 
cried  to  herself.  "What  a  cad  I  was!  If  only  I 
hadn't  said  '  up  at  the  men  who  were  conquering ' ! 
John  Dunmeade,  you  tower  above  them  all." 

The  crimson  ebbed  and  rose  again,  as  she  thought 
of  how  she  had  unsexed  herself  before  him.  At  the 
time  she  had  called  it  courage,  had  felt  almost  an 
exhilaration  in  defying  tradition.  Now  she  was 
ashamed,  because  she  had  lowered  her  woman's  pride 
,and,  even  more,  because  it  had  been  in  the  attempt 
to  lure  him  into  the  very  life  against  which  she  was 
now  rebelling.  It  had  not  been  courage,  but  a  greedi 
ness  that  asked  for  both  the  good  and  the  glittering  in 
life.  She  had  asked  the  impossible.  .  . 

She  was  still  dreaming  when  her  father  came  in. 

His  face  was  haggard,  set  in  an  ugly,  bitter  scowl. 
Yet  something  in  his  attitude,  as  he  flung  himself  wear 
ily  into  a  chair,  gave  the  lie  to  the  defiant  expres 
sion.  There  was  liquor  on  his  breath,  and  she  knew 
that  he  drank  only  when  under  severe  mental  strain. 
The  sympathy  that  had  lagged  as  she  read  of  the 


300  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

wiping  out  of  a  fortune  leaped  when  she  saw  the  man 
who  had  lost  it 

"  Why,  father,  is  it  as  bad  as  that  ?  " 

"  Cleaned  out,"  he  said  curtly. 

She  went  to  him  quickly,  laying  an  impulsive  hand 
on  his  shoulder.  And  demonstrations  of  affection 
were  rare  in  the  Hampden  family.  "  O,  well,  dear, 
never  mind.  It  might  be  so  much  worse." 

"Worse!" 

"  You  might  have  been  taken  sick  or  had  an  acci 
dent  or  —  or  anything.  O,  I  know  that  sounds  fool 
ish!  And  I  am  sorry,  just  for  you.  I  know  how 
you  hate  to  lose.  But  I've  just  been  thinking  how 
nice  it  would  be  to  go  back  home  to  New  Chelsea 
and  start  all  over  again  in  —  in  something  that 
wouldn't  take  all  your  time.  I  —  I'd  be  so  glad  to 
get  acquainted  with  you  again."  She  gave  a  little 
laugh. 

"  You  talk  like  a  fool !  "  he  replied  roughly.  "  What 
could  I  do  in  that  rube  town  —  run  a  grocery  store  ? 
Here's  where  I  can  make  money.  And  I  can  make 
all  we  need,  once  I  get  things  straightened  out.  I've 
been  broke  before.  The  immediate  question  is  —  to 
keep  out  of  jail." 

She  started  back  from  him  with  a  gasp.  "  Out  — 
of  —  jail!  Father!" 

Hampden,  nerves  on  edge,  himself  suffering  more 
cruelly  than  he  was  ready  to  admit,  took  an  unnatural 
joy  in  making  another  suffer  with  him.  "  Out  of 
jail,  I  said.  I'm  '  into '  the  New  Chelsea  bank  and 
I've  nothing  left  to  pay  with." 

"  O,  father,  how  could  you?  " 

"  Drop  that  tragedy-queen  act !  "  he  rasped  out.     "  I 


GOLDEN  FLEECE  301 

could  do  it  very  easily.     It's  just  what  every  banker 
does  in  a  pinch.     Only  —  I'm  caught." 

"Is  — is  it  much?" 

"  It  wasn't,  but  it  is  now." 

"  But  we  must  pay  it  back.     There  are  the  bonds 
you   gave  me.     And   the   New   Chelsea   houses   that  i 
mother  owns  —  she'll  give  those  up.     And  — " 

"  Not  a  third  enough." 

She  dropped  weakly  into  a  chair,  staring  at  him 
foolishly.  She  was  very  pale,  dazed  by  the  sudden 
new  calamity  that  had  fallen.  Like  most  women 
of  her  kind,  she  had  no  idea  of  what  going  to  jail 
meant,  save  that  some  vague,  terrible  disgrace  was 
implied. 

"  Quit  looking  like  that !  "  he  snarled.  "  You're 
shocked,  ain't  you?  Stephen  Hampden,  pampering 
and  spoiling  you  with  everything  you  want,  is  differ 
ent  from  Steve  Hampden  broke  and  in  danger  of  go 
ing  to  jail,  isn't  he?  " 

That  restored  to  her  the  use  of  her  faculties.  She 
saw  that  the  roughness  was  only  the  expression  of 
his  suffering.  "  What  you  imply,"  she  said  gently, 
"  is  only  partly  true.  The  rest  of  the  truth  —  but 
that  isn't  important  now.  Won't  some  one  lend  you 
the  money.  Henry  Sanger  or  Mr.  Grainger  or  Mr. 
Flick  or — "  She  named  several  men  of  their  ac- ' 
quaintance  who,  she  knew,  had  been  his  business  as 
sociates  in  the  past. 

"  I've  been  to  'em  all,  whining  and  begging  — 
y'understand,  begging  —  gone  down  on  my  knees  to 
'em.  And  they  won't  do  a  thing  unless  I  give  security. 
The  hounds!  They're  all  in  the  conspiracy  against 
me.  They  know  they've  cleaned  me  out,  haven't  left 


302  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

me  one  dollar  to  rub  against  another.  And  they  have 
the  gall  to  ask  for  security !  " 

"  They  have  been  your  friends  and  they  will  let 
you  —  go  to  —  jail  ?  " 

"  Do  you  think  I  told  'em  that  ?  I'd  as  soon  do 
time  as  let  'em  know.  But  it  wouldn't  have  made 
any  difference  —  they'd  want  security  just  the  same." 

"  Have  you  seen  — "  she  hesitated  — "  have  you 
seen  Mr.  Gregg?  " 

"  Ah !  "  he  turned  on  her  fiercely.  "  That's  where 
you  come  in.  If  you  hadn't  been  so  high  and  mighty 
with  your  new  uplift-novel  notions  and  thrown  him 
over,  he'd  have  been  with  me  in  this  deal  and  between 
us  we  could  have  stood  'em  off.  You  can  blame  your 
self  for  this." 

"  Do  you,"  she  asked  quietly,  "  want  me  to  go  to 
him  for  you  now?  " 

"  Bah !  Do  you  think  he'd  listen  to  you  ?  This 
isn't  a  novel,  it's  real  life.  And  besides,  I've  tried  to 
find  him  and  he  isn't  in  town.  He  saw  what  was 
coming  and  sneaked  away,  so  he  wouldn't  have  to 
say  no  if  I  asked  him  to  help.  He's  like  the  rest  of 
'em." 

"  But  surely,"  she  insisted  anxiously,  "  the  bank 
won't  press  you.  They  know  you'll  pay  it  all  back 
when  you  can." 

"  What  do  you  know  about  it  ?  It  isn't  the  bank, 
it's  the  government  that  will  make  the  trouble.  That 
fool  Blake  is  in  worse  than  I  am.  The  bank's  gutted, 
cleaned  out.  And  the  bank  examiner  is  overdue.  If 
he  comes  around  now  — "  With  a  gesture  he  sketched 
the  impending  catastrophe. 

Then  she  broke  down.     "  O,  father,"  she  quavered, 


GOLDEN  FLEECE  303 

"  how  could  you  —  how  could  you  ?  Hadn't  you 
enough  without  st  — " 

"  Don't  you !  "  he  growled  furiously.  "  Don't  you 
say  that.  Nobody  ever  had  enough." 

"  Stephen,  what  is  the  matter  now?  "  came  a  languid 
voice  from  the  doorway.  "  And  please,  for  my  sake, 
lower  your  voice.  It's  so  vulgar  to  quarrel  before 
the  servants."  Mrs.  Hampden  entered  and,  with  an 
air  of  utter  exhaustion,  deposited  her  substantial  self 
in  an  easy  chair. 

"  Father,"  Katherine  explained,  with  cruel  brevity, 
"  has  lost  his  money." 

It  was  an  unexpected  tonic.  The  invalid  suddenly 
sat  bolt  upright  and,  quite  forgetting  the  vulgarity  of 
quarreling  within  the  hearing  of  servants,  almost 
shrieked.  "Lost  our  money?  Do  you  mean  to  say, 
Stephen  Hampden,  that  you've  been  selfish  enough  to 
gamble  our  money  away  after  all  I've  suffered  and 
denied  myself — " 

"  Yes,  madam,  you're  as  poor  as  you  were  when  I 
married  you.  Or,  at  least,  you  will  be  when  you've 
signed  over  the  properties  I  gave  you." 

"  I  won't  do  it.  You  gave  them  to  me  and  they  are 
mine  and  I  won't — " 

"  Yes,  you  will,"  he  interrupted  savagely.  "  You'll 
sell  your  last  petticoat,  if  I  tell  you  to." 

She  threw  her  hands  aloft  and  fell  back,  moaning, 
"  O,  in  my  weak  condition,  when  my  heart  — " 

"  Maria,  you're  a  fraud." 

"  You  say  that !  When  you  know  the  doctor  said  — " 

"  That  you  ought  to  eat  less  and  walk  more.  And 
even  with  your  laziness  and  indulgences  you're  the  pic 
ture  of  vulgar  health." 


304  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

"  Mother,"  said  Katherine  impatiently,  "  I  think 
you'd  better  go  up-stairs.  Father  has  other  things  to 
do  than  talk  to  hysterical  women." 

"  And  now  my  own  child,  for  whom  I've  sacrificed 
my  life,  turns  against  me!  " 

"  Rot !  "  snarled  Hampden.  "  You've  never  done 
anything  for  anybody  except  let  them  pet  and  humor 
you  all  your  life.  Go  'way,  both  of  you.  I  want  to 
be  by  myself." 

Mrs.  Hampden  rose.  She  managed  a  stagger  that 
would  have  done  credit  to  Bernhardt.  Then,  as 
neither  husband  nor  daughter  went  to  her  assistance, 
she  made  her  way,  clutching  at  tables  and  chairs  for 
the  doubtfully  necessary  support,  out  of  the  room. 

Hampden  growled  again,  unintelligibly. 

"Father,  isn't  there  something  to  be  done?" 

"  Murchell.  I've  an  appointment  with  him  in  New 
Chelsea  to-morrow.  Some  of  his  rascally  politicians 
are  in  as  deep  as  Blake  and  I.  If  the  bank  fails,  it 
will  kick  up  a  rumpus  that  won't  suit  him  a  bit,  I  can 
tell  you." 

"Can  he  help?" 

"  He  can.     And  he's  got  to." 

"  Do  you  mind  if  I  go  up  with  you  to-morrow?  " 

"  All  right.  And  I  wish,"  he  exclaimed  queru 
lously,  "  you'd  go  away  and  let  me  alone." 

She  obeyed.  But  at  the  door  she  stopped  and 
looked  back.  She  saw  his  rough,  defiant  attitude  dis 
solve  into  one  of  unutterable  weariness. 

In  her  darkened  room  she  sat  by  the  window  for 
a  long  time,  thinking  with  a  feeling  of  sickening  dis 
gust  on  the  sordid  scene  just  enacted :  husband  and 
wife,  at  a  crisis  when  each  should  be  giving  the  other 


GOLDEN  FLEECE  305 

the  tender  sympathy  and  support  of  those  whom  the 
life  force  has  made  one,  thinking  only  of  self;  her 
father,  with  no  sense  of  guilt,  with  no  thought  that 
the  shame  lay  in  the  fact  and  not  in  the  discovery, 
unreasonably  bitter  as  though  his  plight  were  the  re 
sult  of  others'  injustice  and  not  of  his  own  greed. 
This  was  the  other  side,  the  unlovely  other  side,  of 
that  splendid  life  of  conquest  for  which  she  had  put 
the  best  of  all  aside.  Thus  it  made  victims  of  its  vo 
taries. 

Through  the  open  window  came  the  whispering  of 
trees,  the  fragrance  of  flowering  vine  and  shrubbery, 
heavy  on  the  damp,  night  air,  sweet  as  though  it  came 
not  from  the  heart  of  a  vast  ugly  city.  It  set  her  to 
thinking  of  the  countryside,  of  the  town  among  the 
hills  —  she  had  called  it  home  —  and  of  the  man  whom 
others  had  cast  aside. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THE    HONEY    POT 

JOHN  DUNMEADE  had  thought  that  anticipation 
would  rob  defeat  of  its  sting.  Not  until  the 
event,  until  Benton  County,  his  own  neighbors,  had 
repudiated  him,  could  he  measure  the  hurt.  There 
was  in  it  more  than  mere  disappointed  ambition.  A 
vital  spot,  he  dumbly  felt,  had  been  reached.  There 
was  one  thing  which  he  would  do ;  deep  down  within 
him  was  the  unworded  resolve  that  it  should  be  his 
valedictory. 

"  There's  something,"  he  told  Haig,  a  week  after 
the  primaries,  "  that  has  been  haunting  me." 

And  he  told  the  other  what  Sheehan  had  said  con 
cerning  the  bank. 

"  Old  wives'  tales !  "     Haig  grunted. 

"  But  it  might  well  be  true." 

"Well,  what  of  it?" 

"  It  ought  to  be  looked  into." 

"  Even  so,  what  business  is  it  of  yours?  You  aren't 
the  guardian  of  the  public  morals.  Even  if  you  want 
to  be,  the  people  have  just  clearly  declared  that  they 
don't.  Keep  out  of  what  isn't  your  affair." 

"  But  I'm  still  district  attorney." 

"  All  right.  If  anything  happens  or  any  one  makes 
official  information  before  the  end  of  your  term,  prose 
cute." 

306 


THE  HONEY  POT  307 

"  But  I  understand  my  duty  to  include  uncovering 
crime  as  well  as  prosecuting  what  others  expose." 

"  How  will  you  do  it  in  this  case?  " 

"  I'll  ask  Blake  to  let  me  go  over  the  books." 

"  He  won't  let  you,  of  course." 

"  I  think  he  will,"  said  John  thoughtfully,  "  if  noth 
ing  is  wrong.  Especially  when  he  understands  that, 
if  he  doesn't,  I'll  subpoena  him  with  the  books  before 
the  grand  jury.  You  know  something  about  banking. 
I  want  you  to  come  along  with  me." 

"  Well,  I  won't  do  it,"  said  Haig  flatly.  "  And  see 
here !  Don't  you  make  a  blooming  ass  of  yourself 
by  sticking  your  nose  into  other  people's  business. 
Especially  on  the  mere  suspicion  of  a  discredited,  re 
venge-seeking  old  grafter.  Besides,  banks  are  tick 
lish  affairs.  First  thing  you  know,  you'll  precipitate  a 
crash." 

"  And  maybe  prevent  a  bigger  one  later  on.  You 
miss  the  point,  Haig.  If  there's  nothing  wrong,  there 
will  be  no  crash.  But  I  have  friends  who  have  money 
and  stock  in  the  bank.  And  if  our  political  bank  his 
tory  is  repeating  itself,  they  and  the  public  have  the 
right  to  know  it." 

"  John,"  Haig  argued  earnestly,  "  don't  you  do  it. 
Haven't  you  had  enough?  What's  the  use  of  making 
more  trouble  and  enemies  for  yourself?" 

"  I  know,"  John  said  patiently.  "  I've  gone  over 
all  that.  This  is  my  last  crusade.  But  it  goes 
through.  Because,  if  there's  anything  amiss,  now  is 
the  time  for  it  to  come  out,  while  it  can  help  Jerry 
Brent." 

"  Great  Scott !  Have  you  still  faith  in  the  people  ? 
Don't  you  know  what  they'll  do,  if  you  uncover  any- 


3o8  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

thing?  Just  sniff  daintily  around  and  then  walk  off 
to  vote  for  Sherrod  or  Jenkins  or  whomever  the  gangs 
nominate.  And  as  for  Jerry  Brent,  a  bumptious,  ar 
rogant,  hot-headed,  theatric,  jealous  boor — " 

"  And  an  honest  man,"  John  interrupted,  smiling. 
"  Why  do  you  object  so  strenuously,  if  you  think 
there's  nothing  out  of  the  way?  " 

"  Because,"  said  Haig  bluntly,  "  I  think  it  very  pos 
sible  that  things  aren't  straight  at  the  bank.  But  I 
like  you  and  I  don't  want  you  to  start  a  stink  that 
will  end  the  Lord  knows  where  and  can  accom 
plish  nothing.  And  I  like  Warren  Blake  —  he's  a 
good  friend  of  yours,  too  —  and  I  don't  want  to  see 
him  in  trouble.  Besides,"  he  grinned,  "  none  of  my 
money  is  deposited  in  the  bank." 

"  Is  that  all  you  have  to  offer  for  the  defense?  If 
it  is  —  are  you  coming  along  or  not  ?  " 

"  I  suppose,"  Haig  grumbled,  "  I'll  have  to.  You 
need  a  guardian  angel.  Your  nose  is  as  impertinently 
intrusive  as  Mrs.  Hicks'.  My  own  opinion  is,  the 
people  of  Benton  County  knew  exactly  what  they  were 
about  when  they  decided  to  throw  you  out  of  your 
job." 

So  it  happened  that  at  a  critical  time  in  the  fortunes 
of  the  bank  and  its  officers  John  and  Haig  set  out 
on  their  mission.  They  chose  an  hour  early  in  the 
evening,  after  supper.  They  tried  the  bank  first;  it 
wrould  be  closed,  but  within,  as  all  New  Chelsea  knew, 
Warren  Blake  was  apt  to  be  found,  faithfully  at  the 
work  that  never  seemed  to  end. 

The  dark  green  window  shades  had  been  pulled 
down  closely,  but  a  glimmering  around  the  edges 


THE  HONEY  POT  309 

showed  that  a  light  was  burning  within.     At  the  en 
trance  Haig  stopped  short. 

"  I  tell  you,"  he  grumbled,  "  I  don't  like  this.  It 
isn't  too  late  to  change  your  mind.  Let's  put  it  off, 
anyhow." 

For  an  instant  John  hesitated,  then  rapped  on  the 
door. 

Blake  might  have  been  expecting  them,  so  promptly 
was  it  thrown  open.  Surprise,  however,  was  de 
picted  on  his  face  when  he  beheld  the  visitors. 

"  Good  evening,  gentlemen.  Can  I  do  something 
for  you  ?  " 

"  We'd  like  to  have  a  little  talk  with  you,  Warren," 
said  John. 

"  I'm  pretty  busy  to-night,"  he  answered.  "If  it 
isn't  important,  can't  you  put  it  off  until  Monday  or 
Tuesday." 

"  But  it  is  important,"  John  insisted  gravely.  "  It 
concerns  the  bank." 

"The  bank?" 

Suddenly  Warren,  by  some  strange  intuition,  knew, 
as  he  had  known  that  the  market  would  sag,  what 
this  untimely  visit  portended.  He  felt  the  blood  leave 
his  face,  rush  to  his  heart.  His  hands  and  feet  be 
came  icy  cold.  He  stared  stupidly  at  the  visitors,  as 
though  his  faculties  were  benumbed. 

"I  —  I'm  pretty  busy  to-night,"  he  repeated  dully. 
"  Can't  you  put  it  off  until  Monday  ?  " 

"  I  think  we'd  better  talk  it  over  now,  Warren," 
John  answered. 

The  sense  of  shock  seemed  to  pass  away.  The 
cashier  threw  the  door  wider  open  to  admit  them. 


3io  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

"  Come  in,"  he  said  quietly.  They  entered  and  he 
closed  and  locked  the  door  behind  them.  Then  he 
straightened  up,  all  composure,  to  face  them. 

"  I'll  have  to  ask  you  to  be  brief.  I'm  preparing 
some  papers  for  Senator  Murchell  and  Mr.  Hampden, 
and  they'll  be  here  soon." 

"  I'll  come  right  to  the  point,"  John  answered. 
"  Warren,  I  want  to  see  the  books  of  the  bank." 

"  That  is  an  unusual  request,"  Warren  said  calmly. 
"Why?" 

"  I've  heard  that  you  are  carrying  a  good  deal  of 
worthless  political. paper  and  that  the  bank  is  in  dan 
ger.  I  want  to  verify  or  disprove  that." 

"  That's  absurd.  The  bank  is  perfectly  safe.  And, 
of  course,  we  can't  let  you  see  the  books.  You  aren't 
even  a  stock-holder  and  have  no  interest  in  them." 

"  Warren,"  said  Haig  hastily,  putting  his  hand  on 
the  cashier's  shoulder,  "  I  beg  you  to  do  as  he  asks. 
We're  here  in  a  wholly  friendly  way.  And,  of  course, 
the  bank  is  sound.  You  can  rely  on  Dunmeade  and 
me  to  do  absolutely  nothing,  in  that  case,  to  harm  it." 

Warren  shook  his  head.  "  You  ought  to  know  that 
it  is  out  of  the  question." 

"  Then,"  said  John  regretfully,  "  I'll  have  to  sub 
poena  you  to  appear  with  the  books  before  the  grand 
jury  on  Monday."  He  drew  forth  two  documents, 
one  of  which  he  gave  to  Blake.  "  Is  it  necessary  for 
me  to  go  through  the  formality  of  reading  it  to  you?  " 

Blake  did  not  reply.  He  seemed  to  be  reading  the 
summons  with  his  usual  painstaking  slowness.  There 
was  not  a  tremor  in  the  hand  that  held  the  paper. 
Haig,  watching  with  an  odd  sense  of  misgiving,  saw 
the  cashier's  lips  curve  in  a  queer  smile. 


THE  HONEY  POT  311 

John  repeated  the  question.  Blake  looked  up,  the 
strange  smile  persisting. 

"  Before  you  make  this  service  final,"  he  said,  "  I 
suggest  that  you  wait  and  explain  your  errand  to  Mur- 
chell  and  Hampden.  They  will  be  here  soon.  Just 
take  chairs  in  the  cage.  While  we're  waiting,  I'll  fin 
ish  my  work." 

Haig  sighed  in  relief.  "  Now  that's  sensible,  War 
ren.  You  can  wait,  can't  you,  John?  " 

"  Certainly." 

Blake  ushered  them  into  the  cage,  found  chairs, 
offered  cigars  and,  politely  excusing  himself,  retired 
into  the  cashier's  office  and  settled  himself  at  the 
desk.  Haig  —  and  John,  too  —  held  by  an  uneasy 
curiosity  they  did  not  try  to  explain,  watched  him. 
For  a  few  minutes  he  worked,  with  a  speed  that  was 
not  nervous  haste,  transcribing  figures  from  the  book 
before  him  and  adding  up  columns.  The  latter  task 
he  repeated,  as  though  to  verify  the  results.  Then 
he  wrote  a  few  lines  and  carefully  blotted  them. 

This  done,  he  seemed  to  have  come  to  the  end  of 
his  work.  But  he  did  not  return  to  John  and  Haig; 
he  seemed  to  have  lost  consciousness  of  their  prox 
imity.  The  pen  fell  from  his  fingers.  His  folded 
hands  rested  passively  on  the  desk.  He  sat  motion 
less,  staring  straight  ahead  into  nothingness.  Under 
the  gaslight  his  face  showed  very  white.  A  heavy, 
uncanny  silence  descended  upon  the  three  men. 

Haig  felt  his  misgivings  return,  trebly  acute. 
"  Let's  get  out  of  here,"  he  whispered.  "  There's 
something  horrible  about  that." 

John's  face,  too,  was  pale.  He  had  seen  men,  not 
lacking  in  physical  courage,  receive  the  sentence  of 


312  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

death  in  the  same  fixedness  of  attitude  and  gaze.  "  It 
must  be  worse  than  I  suspected,"  he  muttered.  He 
wanted  to  accede  to  Haig's  request. 

While  he  hesitated,  there  came  a  rap  on  the  door. 

As  though  he  had  been  waiting  for  just  that,  War 
ren  rose,  went  to  the  door  and  admitted  the  new 
visitors.  They  were  Hampden  and  Murchell.  Hamp- 
den  was  the  first  to  notice  the  presence  of  John  and 
Haig. 

"What  are  they  doing  here?"  he  demanded  sus 
piciously. 

"  Come  back  into  the  office  and  we'll  explain,"  War 
ren  answered.  "  You  come,  too,"  he  nodded  to  the 
men  within  the  cage. 

The  five  men  gathered  in  the  little  office.  No  one 
sat  down  or  offered  to  shake  hands.  There  was  a 
tense,  silent  moment,  during  which  the  new-comers  sur 
veyed  the  others  keenly;  they  seemed  to  sense  some 
thing  dramatic,  dangerous,  impending.  Warren  broke 
the  silence,  calmly. 

"  Dunmeade  wants  to  examine  the  books." 

"  Well,  he  can't  do  it,"  Hampden  said  quickly. 

"  So  I  told  him,"  Warren  continued.  "  And  he 
followed  the  request  up  by  serving  me  with  a  sub- 
pcena  to  appear  with  the  books  before  the  grand  jury." 

"  You've  no  right  to  do  that."  Hampden  wheeled 
sharply  on  John. 

"  Do  you  want  to  contest  my  right  in  court  ?  "  John 
asked  quietly. 

Hampden  turned  with  a  look  of  nervous  apprehen 
sion  to  Murchell. 

"  Why  are  you  doing  this  ?  "  the  senator  demanded 
of  John. 


THE  HONEY  POT  313 

"  Because  I  have  information  that  the  bank  is  carry 
ing  worthless  political  paper  and  is  rotten.  I  have 
it  from  one  who  has  helped  manipulate  such  paper. 
From  one,  in  fact,  whose  notes,  supposed  to  be  in- 
collectible,  the  bank  is  now  trying  to  collect." 

"  And  on  general  suspicion  you  would  take  an  action 
that  might  ruin  the  soundest  bank  in  the  country?  " 

"  Not  on  general  suspicion,"  John  returned.  "  But 
on  absolute  knowledge.  There ! "  He  pointed  to 
Blake's  face. 

"  And  there ! "  Haig's  dry,  shrill  voice  was  like 
the  crack  of  a  whip,  as  he  aimed  a  long,  lean  fore 
finger  at  Hampden.  The  latter  recoiled  as  from  a 
blow. 

Murchell  did  not  look  at  Blake  or  Hampden.  From 
under  wrinkled  brows  his  eyes  were  boring  deep  into 
John's,  seeking  to  test  the  strength  of  the  latter's  de 
termination.  His  mind,  like  a  startled  deer  in  the 
forest,  every  faculty  alert  to.  sense  and  locate  danger, 
too  swiftly  to  put  his  thoughts  into  words,  marshaled 
the  situation  and  the  peril,  calculated  the  chances.  He 
saw  only  one  way  out ;  boldly  he  took  it. 

"  You  can  see  the  books.     Now  ?  " 

"  We  may  as  well  begin  now.  It  will  take  some 
time,  I  suppose." 

Hampden.,  vainly  trying  to  regain  an  appearance 
of  composure,  tremblingly  sat  down.  For  a  minute 
Warren  said  nothing.  When  he  did  speak,  it  was  in 
a  low,  lifeless  voice. 

"  I  can  save  you  the  trouble.  The  statement  I  have 
been  preparing  for  Senator  Murchell  contains  what 
you  want,  I  think.  This  is  it."  He  pointed  to  the 
papers  lying  on  his  desk. 


314  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

Slowly,  mechanically,  as  one  walking  in  sleep,  he 
gathered  up  the  books  on  the  desk  and  carried  them 
from  the  office  to  the  vault.  John  will  never  know 
why  he  followed,  a  few  steps  behind.  He  saw  War 
ren  put  the  books  in  their  places,  then  fumble  around 
in  a  corner  of  the  shelf.  Warren  seemed  to  feel  his 
presence,  for,  hand  still  resting  on  the  shelf,  he  turned 
to  face  John.  The  strange  smile  returned.  Then 
the  hand,  grasping  a  black,  shining  thing,  leaped 
from  the  shelf  to  his  head.  John's  cry  and  the  shot  rang 
out  together. 

For  an  instant  the  body  swayed,  then  crumpled  in 
a  heap  on  the  floor. 

Four  stunned  men,  held  in  a  horrible  fascination, 
knelt  by  the  ghastly  thing,  dumbly  watching  the 
struggle  of  that  which  is  called  Life  to  free  itself 
from  its  prison  of  flesh.  Of  these  men,  three  of  them, 
each  in  anguish,  was  calling  himself  murderer.  The 
twitching,  greenish-white  skin  —  the  half-closed, 
bulging,  glazing  eyes  —  the  open  mouth  through  which 
the  slow,  convulsive  breath  bubbled  hoarsely  —  the 
little  hole  from  which  blood  and  brains  oozed  like  mat 
ter  from  a  suppurating  sore,  burned  into  each  man's 
memory,  seared  his  soul,  a  picture  never  quite  to  be 
erased. 

For  nearly  an  hour  —  an  eternity  —  shaken  to  the 
very  center  of  their  beings,  they  kept  the  death  watch. 
Sometimes  one  of  them  spoke,  in  some  senseless  sug 
gestion  to  which  he  received  no  answer,  expected  none. 
The  hoarse,  shuddering  breath  grew  fainter,  slower. 
The  twitching  of  the  face  ceased.  There  was  a  shiver 
that  passed  over  the  whole  body  —  then  stillness.  No 


THE  HONEY  POT  315 

one  remembered  to  close  the  eyes.  It  lay  there,  more 
awful  in  its  staring  immobility  even  than  in  the  un 
conscious  contortions  of  the  death  struggle. 

Haig  was  the  first  to  recover  himself.  He  caught 
John  by  the  arm  and  drew  him  away.  He  tried  to 
speak  in  his  ordinary  brisk  tone.  "  Dead  —  as  a  rab 
bit."  But  his  voice  was  harsh  and  quavering. 

John  recoiled  from  the  grisly  jest.  Haig  shook  him 
roughly. 

"  I've  got  to  do  something  to  brace  you  up  — 
there's  no  whisky.  Quit  looking  at  it  and  pull  your 
self  together,  or  you'll  go  to  pieces.  You'll  think  you 
did  it." 

John  stared  at  him  wildly.  "I  —  I  did,"  he  mut 
tered  hoarsely. 

"  Put  that  out  of  your  mind,"  Haig  commanded 
sternly.  "We'll  identify  the  murderer  later.  We've 
got  other  things  to  think  of  now." 

John  released  himself  from  Haig's  clutch  and 
started  for  the  door.  Haig  caught  him  again.  "  Come 
back  here."  He  drew  John  into  the  office  and  forced 
him  to  sit  down.  "  And  you  two,  come." 

Murchell  seemed  to  come  out  of  his  daze.  He 
touched  Hampden,  who  followed  him  docilely  and  fell 
into  a  chair. 

"  I  seem  to  be  the  only  one  with  a  trace  of  sanity 
left.  And  I,"  said  Haig  grimly,  mopping  his  brow 
with  a  shaking  hand,  "  I  am  pretty  far  gone.  God ! 
I  didn't  know  it  could  be  so  awful.  But  we've  got  to 
decide  whether  we'll  let  this  —  how  and  why  it  hap 
pened  —  come  out.  By  some  miracle  nobody  seems 
to  have  heard.  If  the  luck  holds,  we  may  be  able  to 
keep  it  quiet."  He  looked  at  Murchell. 


316  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

But  a  great  change  seemed  to  have  come  over  the 
politician  during  the  racking  hour.  His  face  was 
ashen;  he  looked  old  as  he  never  had  before.  All  the 
firm  self-reliance,  the  habit  of  domination,  justified 
through  so  many  crises,  seemed  to  have  broken  down 
in  the  presence  of  sudden,  violent  death.  He  shook 
his  head  in  a  hopeless  negative. 

"  There's  no  use  trying,"  he  said  wearily,  "  if  you 
go  ahead  with  this  investigation."  He  turned  to  John. 
"  It's  for  you  to  decide.  If  this  is  kept  quiet  and  you 
don't  go  on,  I  can  save  the  bank  —  maybe.  But  if 
you  do  go  on,  there'll  be  a  great  scandal  and  I  can  do 
nothing.  And  —  you've  got  to  understand  the  situa 
tion  —  you'll  have  to  prosecute  Hampden  here." 

John  did  not  answer.  He  was  staring  at  the  face 
of  Warren  Blake. 

Haig  mopped  his  forehead  again.  "  Let's  get  out 
of  here,"  he  muttered  nervously.  "  If  I  stay  much 
longer  with  —  that  —  I'll  be  a  gibbering  idiot." 

He  took  the  dead  cashier's  keys  from  the  desk, 
turned  out  the  light  and  went  to  the  door.  The  others 
followed. 

They  forgot  to  close  the  vault.  But  it  was  well 
guarded. 

New  Chelsea  had  been  long  asleep,  the  streets 
emptied,  when  Haig  and  Murchell,  accompanied  by  the 
doctor  and  undertaker  —  stock-holders  in  the  bank  and 
frightened  into  secrecy  —  drove  a  roundabout  course 
by  side  streets  and  alleys  to  the  rear  door  of  the  bank. 
Like  thieves,  they  entered  and  carried  what  lay  there 
out  to  the  carriage.  Then  they  drove  away,  praying 


THE  HONEY  POT  317 

that  no  untimely  passer-by  had  chanced  to  observe 
them. 

But  the  luck  held. 

Later  still,  with  another  picture  —  a  little,  faded  old 
woman  become  in  an  instant  a  foolishly  smiling  child 
—  burnt  into  their  memories,  Haig  and  Murchell 
emerged  from  the  home  of  Warren  Blake.  Haig 
stopped,  looking  up  into  the  sky. 

"  I  wonder  what  John  Dunmeade  is  going  through 
just  now  ?  I  can  see  the  end.  The  good  have  no  luck. 
But  how  the  forces  of  love  and  hate,  good  and  ill,  life 
and  death  play  into  the  hands  of  an  evil  man!  But 
sometimes  he  has  to  pay.  At  another  time,  when  I 
have  settled  upon  the  price,  you  and  I  will  talk  of 
payment."  He  raised  his  hands  to  the  stars.  "  And 
there's  a  curse  on  the  man  responsible  for  this  night. 
Old  man,  do  you  say  Amen  ?  " 

He  caught  the  other  by  the  shoulders,  peered  closely 
into  his  face  and,  laughing  harshly,  turned  away. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THE   VULNERABLE   HEEL 

THROUGH  a  night  that  seemed  endless,  a  man 
fought  a  battle  old  as  sin  itself.  He  had  sought 
the  solitude  of  the  fields  in  a  blind,  vain  wish  to  escape 
the  issue  and  the  thing  that  filled  his  eyes.  Now  he 
walked,  now  halted,  now  almost  ran,  in  the  struggle 
to  regain  clarity  of  vision,  to  restore  calm  to  his  tor 
tured  soul.  But  he  could  not  escape.  And,  though 
he  saw  clearly  —  how  clearly,  as  the  night  wore  on! 
—  calm  eluded  him.  The  roadside  was  alive  with 
ghastly,  grinning  objects. 

Other  men  might  not  have  struggled  so  hard,  even 
in  the  weakness  following  shock  might  have  yielded, 
seeing  no  vital  issue  involved.  But  he,  in  his  lonely 
struggle,  had  thought  so  long  and  deeply  on  a  great 
underlying  principle  that  it  had  become  real  to  him,  a 
breathing,  pulsing  being  that  had  a  life  to  be  taken 
or  nourished,  a  trust  to  be  kept  or  betrayed.  He  had 
come  so  near  to  greatness.  And  now,  at  an  hour  when 
it  seemed  most  to  need  stimulus  and  support,  he  was 
brought  face  to  face  with  the  temptation  to  desert.  It 
was  one  thing  in  a  moment  of  disheartenment  to  cry, 
as  he  had  cried  to  himself,  "  I  have  come  to  the  end." 
It  was  far  different,  when  opportunity  had  come  to 
revive  a  sinking  cause,  to  stay  his  hand.  He  knew 
he  had  but  to  reach  out  to  disclose,  not  an  Ex- 

318 


THE  VULNERABLE  HEEL  319 

calibur  rising  out  of  the  waters  to  lend  invincibility 
to  him  who  would  wield  it,  but  a  new  prod  for  a  cal 
loused  people,  one  fact  the  more  to  add  to  the  knowl 
edge,  whose  cumulative  power  in  the  end  would  — 
must  —  carry  the  people  forward,  upward. 

He  had  learned,  too,  that  justice  is  ofttimes  cruel. 
Words  of  his  own,  now  seeming  almost  prophetic,  rang 
insistent  in  his  ears,  "When  the  eternal  Force,  im 
pelling  humanity  to  its  ultimate  purpose,  moves,  many 
individuals,  blindly  or  by  intention  standing  in  its  way, 
must  be  swept  aside."  A  magniloquent,  empty  phrase, 
or  a  living  truth  ?  —  he  had  that  to  answer  and  apply. 
War  could  not  be  waged  without  shedding  of  blood. 
A  soldier  dared  not  retreat  merely  because  in  the  op 
posing  ranks  were  those  whom  he  would  not  harm. 

And  he  was  not  his  own  man.  The  knowledge  he 
had  won  of  the  vast,  intricate  network  of  crime 
and  iniquity  overspreading  the  nation,  often  parading 
under  the  guise  of  respectability,  the  inspiration  that 
had  been  given  him,  the  fine  sense  that  enabled  him 
to  perceive  the  wider  human  relations,  set  him  apart. 
He  assumed  no  exaggerated  importance  in  believing 
this.  Whether  he  had  or  had  not  the  splendor  of  in 
tellect  and  temperament  to  incite  and  command  revolu 
tions  —  and  he  knew  he  lacked  that  —  mattered  not ; 
he  must  serve  in  the  capacity  for  which  he  had  been 
fitted,  and  with  the  high  courage  which  hesitates  not 
before  the  necessary  sacrifice.  In  the  very  fashion  in 
which  he  had  stumbled  into  this  crisis  —  the  chance, 
cloudy  suspicion  at  which  he  had  scoffed  as  absurd, 
unjustified,  but  that  yet  had  impelled  him  to  discov 
ery  —  he  felt  a  command  from  the  all-controlling 
Force  in  which  he  believed,  to  go  forward.  He  saw 


320  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

in  the  crisis  a  supreme  test  of  himself,  his  purpose, 
his  ideal. 

But  there  were  other  truths  that  flayed  and  scorched. 

Vague  notions  of  using  his  unshared  knowledge  as 
a  club  to  win  some  advantage  he  hastily  put  aside. 
The  temptation  of  expediency  had  never  pressed  him. 
But  there  were  other  senses,  other  instincts  than  those 
which  revealed  to  him  the  universal  brotherhood. 
Through  them  the  man,  not  the  brother,  spoke. 

It  was  Hampden,  Katherine  and  John  Dunmeade 
against  the  people. 

And  what  did  he  owe  the  people,  the  calloused  fools 
whose  knowledge,  if  not  complete,  was  yet  full  enough 
to  show  them  whither  they  were  going  and  whither 
they  must  turn,  but  who  trudged  contentedly  on,  in 
different  to  all  but  the  present  profit,  thinking  only  of 
self,  repudiating  and  sneering  at  those  who  offered 
honest  service  and  counsel?  The  balance  was  all 
against  them  and  in  his  favor.  And,  after  all,  what 
reason  had  he  to  believe  that  the  knowledge  he  could 
give  would  pierce  their  indifference?  He  had  already 
given  them  facts,  the  significance  of  which  no  sane 
man  could  deny,  and  with  no  result  save  to  win  him 
bitter  enemies  and  bitterer  discouragement.  There 
were  exceptions  —  yes,  the  Cranshawes  and  Criswells 
and  Sykeses;  and  he  loved  them  for  their  simple, 
rugged  honesty.  But  he  had  already  given  them 
much.  Six  years  is  not  a  long  time  measured  against 
the  ages,  but  when  they  were  taken  from  the  golden 
period  of  a  man's  life  and  spent  in  endeavor  made  fu 
tile  by  others'  unresponsiveness,  they  were  enough,  far 
more  than  he  owed.  Let  some  one  else  now  take  up 
the  task  to  which  John  Dunmeade  had  been  unequal! 


THE  VULNERABLE  HEEL  321 

He  saw  Stephen  Hampden  cowering,  a  suddenly 
broken,  fear-palsied  man,  before  the  death  agony,  look 
ing  with  a  kind  of  wistfulness  on  the  dying  man's  face, 
as  though  in  Warren  Blake's  example  he  saw  a  way 
out  of  the  tangle.  A  troop  of  miserable,  pitiable  fig 
ures  marched  before  him  —  Slayton,  Brown,  Parsons, 
Sheehan,  Blake  —  men  whom  he  had  punished,  whose 
lives  he  had  shattered  or  taken  in  his  crusade  —  to 
what  end  ?  Their  places  had  been  taken  by  other  men 
of  like  kind,  the  world  no  better,  no  wiser,  so  far  as 
he  could  see.  Must  he  add  Hampden  to  the  list?  He 
was  not  inhuman,  his  heart  cried  out  against  inflicting 
further  misery  in  behalf  of  a  futile  cause.  And  be 
hind  the  troop  marched  a  regiment  of  men  and  women, 
his  neighbors,  whose  little  savings  would  be  lost,  did 
the  bank  fail  through  his  disclosures,  but  might  be 
preserved  if  Murchell's  promise  to  intervene  were  kept. 
Was  there  not  more  virtue  in  mercy  than  in  punish 
ment? 

For  long,  in  the  fear  of  the  man  who  knows  himself 
weakening,  he  refused  to  face  the  crucial  fact.  But 
he  had  to  come  to  it  —  to  her  —  at  last.  He  saw 
her  as  he  had  last  seen  her,  the  rose  in  bloom,  a 
strong  woman  refined  and  softened  by  some  heart 
process  of  which  he  knew  nothing.  If  he  went  for 
ward,  he  must  cloud  the  splendor  and  beauty  of  her 
womanhood  with  disgrace  and  suffering.  He  revolted 
against  the  thought  —  why  must  she,  innocent,  and  at 
his  hand,  be  made  to  suffer  the  penalty  that  others  had 
earned?  Could  he  strike  the  blow?  It  made  no  dif 
ference  that  she  had  flouted  him  for  unworthy  things. 
As  once  before  nothing  that  she  could  say  had  added 
to  the  temptation  that  lay  in  her  very  existence,  so 


322  -HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

now  nothing  that  she  had  done  could  take  from  the 
fact  of  his  love.  For  it  lived.  He  could  find  through 
the  years  in  unceasing  work  an  anodyne  to  deaden  the 
ache,  but  on  this  his  Mount  Olivet  it  lived  again,  a 
throbbing  passion  that  submerged  all  things  else.  He 
had  not  the  strength  of  God,  he  told  himself;  he  could 
not  be  so  merciless  to  her,  to  himself. 

And  he  —  had  he  not  through  many  failures  earned 
the  right  to  show  mercy?  Those  failures  passed  in 
review  before  him.  He  had  hewed  close  to  the  line, 
and  he  had  nothing  to  show  for  it.  His  finicalness 
had  not  always  been  wise.  There  was  the  case  of  the 
coal  company.  He  had  refused  to  share  in  it,  seeing 
it  a  besmirched  transaction,  and  it  had  resulted  in 
nothing  but  good.  A  great  natural  storehouse  had 
been  opened,  the  world  made  richer,  and  the 
friends  for  whom  he  had  feared  had  been  given  sub 
stantial  release  from  care.  He  clung  tenaciously  to 
this  evidence  of  his  fallibility;  he  arraigned  himself 
under  a  charge  of  incompetence  and  conceit.  What 
right  had  he  to  think  that  his  lips  had  been  touched 
by  a  live  coal  from  the  altar,  his  heart  granted  infalli 
bility  of  inspiration? 

And  always,  even  while  the  habit  of  years  answered 
the  pleas  of  his  temptation,  he  saw  the  faces  of  Kath- 
erine,  of  her  father  —  and  of  Warren  Blake.  Espe 
cially  the  face  of  Warren  Blake.  He  tried  to  shake 
himself  free  of  it  and  could  not.  It  leered  at  him 
from  the  roadside,  danced  ghastly  before  him,  sprang 
out  at  him  from  behind  tree  and  stump,  torturing,  ac 
cusing  him.  It  became  an  obsession.  To  escape  it, 
he  fled  homeward  in  the  waning  night.  The  thing 
followed,  racking  his  nerves  with  the  vision :  the 


THE  VULNERABLE  HEEL  323 

twitching,  livid  skin  —  the  starting,  glazing  eyes  — 
the  open  mouth  through  which  the  spasmodic  breath 
came  stertorously  —  the  little  hole  oozing  bloody  mat 
ter.  It  was  one  thing  too  many;  he  felt  it  was  driv 
ing  him  to  the  end  of  endurance. 

He  prayed  feverishly  for  daylight. 

By  his  window,  as  once  he  had  watched  a  dawn  of 
promise,  he  saw  it  come,  but  without  promise.  The 
sky  over  the  eastern  hills  began  to  whiten.  In  the 
valley  night  became  twilight.  Gradually,  like  order 
coming  out  of  chaos,  the  vague  black  mass  before  him 
took  form  as  the  blue-green  hills  that  he  knew.  It 
was  day,  the  grisly  vision  dimmed. 

At  last,  the  battle  ended,  too  tired  to  seek  his  bed, 
he  fell  asleep  in  the  chair. 

He  was  awakened  by  the  ringing  of  the  church- 
bells. 

It  was  a  clear  morning,  the  sun  shining  brilliantly. 
The  peace  of  the  Sabbath  lay  over  all.  The  mellow,  lin 
gering  resonance  of  the  bells  and  the  twittering  of  the 
birds  served  only  to  deepen  the  calm  that  had  fallen. 
Along  Main  Street  moved,  with  sedate  stride,  the 
weekly  procession  of  church-goers,  clad  in  sober  Sun 
day  raiment  and  wearing  the  grave  aspect  required 
of  those  about  to  engage  in  divinely-appointed  rites. 
Not  even  the  news  which  they  would  receive  in  church, 
that  Warren  Blake  had  dropped  dead  of  heart  failure 
—  grim  jest!  —  would  disturb  their  gravity.  For  the 
news  would  be  accompanied  by  assurances  from  Sena 
tor  Murchell  and  Stephen  Hampden  that  the  bank 
would  be  in  nowise  affected. 

The  bells  became  silent,  the  hush  deepened.     From 


324  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

the  neighboring  church,  so  near  that  he  could  almost 
hear  the  words,  came  the  voice  of  the  congregation 
in  the  doxology,  Praise  God  from  whom  ail  blessings 
flow.  It  called  forth  no  response  from  him. 

He  rose  from  his  seat  by  the  window  and,  obedient 
to  the  command  of  habit,  made  his  morning  toilet. 
When  he  was  dressed  he  returned  to  the  window. 
He  was  very  tired.  His  will,  as  though  worn  out  by 
the  scene  and  struggle  of  the  night,  could  not  shake 
off  the  heavy  mental  and  physical  lassitude  that  op 
pressed  him.  Once  he  tried  to  recall  the  horror  he 
had  seen,  but  his  inert  mind  balked.  He  did  not  think 
of  what  he  would  or  would  not  do.  He  was  con 
scious  of  no  sensation,  save  the  desire  to  drink  in  the 
sunshine;  it  seemed  as  though  he  could  never  again 
have  enough  sunshine.  And  he  wondered  how  long 
it  must  be  before  darkness  would  cease  to  revivify  the 
horror  for  him. 

With  sluggish  curiosity  he  watched  the  figure  of  a 
woman  walking  down  the  street.  Not  until  she  turned 
in  at  the  gate  did  he  recognize  her.  There  was  no 
glad  start.  On  the  contrary  a  muttered,  querulous 
protest  escaped  him.  He  did  not  wish  to  see  her  just 
then. 

He  waited  until  there  was  a  knock  on  the  door  and 
the  voice  of  the  Dunmeades'  only  servant  called  him, 
"  Mr.  John,  you're  wanted  down-stairs." 

Reluctantly  he  rose  and  went  down  to  the  library. 
She  was  standing  at  a  southern  window  through  which 
the  sun  poured  its  golden  flood.  She  heard  him  enter 
and  turned.  He  halted,  just  within  the  door.  For  a 
moment,  silent,  they  looked  at  each  other  across  the 
sunlit  room. 


THE  VULNERABLE  HEEL  325 

The  inward  protest  died.  Neither  amid  the  mists 
of  the  morning  nor  facing  the  sunset  glory  nor  be 
neath  the  white  splendor  of  the  moon,  had  she  ever 
seemed  to  him  so  desirable  as  now,  framed  by  the 
morning  radiance.  Yet  she  was  less  beautiful,  as  men 
measure  physical  charm.  She,  too,  had  had  her  night  of 
horror  and  it  had  left  its  mark  upon  her.  There  was 
no  color  in  her  face  save  the  shadows  under  her  eyes. 
She  seemed  very  tired,  though  she  held  herself  firmly 
erect.  But  there  was  about  her  a  new  something  — 
the  humility  of  a  strong,  chastened  woman,  whose 
pride,  but  not  whose  courage,  has  been  touched.  And 
there  was  in  her  look  that  which  he  was  glad  to  believe 
• —  for  a  little  while.  He  thought  it  could  not  last 
long.  But  in  an  instant  it  raised  to  life  the  burning 
hopes  and  longings  which  for  five  years  he  had  sup 
pressed,  had  believed  dead,  even  if  that  which  evoked 
them  still  lived. 

He  could  not  understand  then  that  the  look  spoke 
something  which  neither  his  strength  nor  his  weak 
ness  could  alter,  which  would  glow  the  stronger  for 
weakness,  because  she  understood.  And  he  did  not 
know  that  her  look  was  the  answer  to  what  he  was 
mutely  telling  her. 

There  was  no  other  greeting. 

It  was  she  who,  with  the  brave  directness  that  had 
always  been  hers,  first  broke  the  silence. 

"  I  have  heard  what  —  what  happened  last  night. 
And  I  have  come  to  ask  you  to  do  nothing  that  will 
harm  my  father." 

Unconsciously  his  face  darkened.  It  was  not  be 
cause  of  her  request,  but  because  of  the  picture  she 
recalled.  "  I  supposed  it  was  for  that.  You  have  — " 


326  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

He  would  have  said,  "  no  need  to  ask."  But  she  mis 
understood  and  interrupted  quickly. 

"  I  have  no  right  to  ask  this  —  or  anything  of  you? 
I  know  that,  more  clearly  than  you  can  tell  me.  I  put 
you  in  the  way  of  unhappiness  and  then  chose  against 
you  for  things  —  for  things  of  no  value.  It  may  give 
you  some  satisfaction  to  know  that  they  are  gone — • 
though  you  can  hardly  believe  that  the  taste  for  them 
went  first." 

"  I  am  not  so  small  as  to  find  satisfaction  in  that. 
I  didn't  mean  what  you  think,  but  that  — " 

"  Please  hear  me  out.  I  have  no  right  to  ask  it  on 
any  account.  I  realize  how  much  I  am  asking  of  you. 
I  made  them  explain  the  situation  fully  to  me,  and  I 
understand  your  point  of  view.  You  have  an  oppor 
tunity  to  advance  the  cause  you  have  worked  so  hard 
for,  and  you  believe  you  have  no  right  to  hold  back  to 
save  unworthy  men.  I  —  I  think  you  are  right." 

"  You  think  me  right !  " 

"  Yes.  Last  winter  I  told  you  —  you  have  doubt 
less  forgotten — " 

"  I  have  not  forgotten." 

"  I  told  you  my  notions  of  many  things  have 
changed.  That  is  true.  You  are  right  —  and  yet  I 
ask  it." 

"  I  don't  understand  — " 

"  How  I  can  be  so  inconsistent?  "  she  smiled  wanly. 
"  That  should  be  very  easy  for  you  to  understand.  I 
—  my  father  and  Senator  Murchell,  the  men  who  will 
profit  by  your  silence,  deserve  nothing  at  your  hands, 
at  anybody's.  I  can't  pretend  that  they  would  show 
mercy  to  you.  But  my  father,  at  least,  is  a  broken 


THE  VULNERABLE  HEEL  327 

man.  Last  night  took  away  his  courage.  He  believes 
that  he  is  responsible  for  Warren  Blake's — " 

"  No ! "  She  saw  him  shudder  and  draw  back. 
"  No !  I,  with  my  rashness,  am  to  blame  for  that." 

"  Ah !  you  mustn't  say  that."  She  took  a  step  for 
ward,  eager  in  his  defense.  "  I  know  what  you've 
been  through  and  how  it  must  have  given  you  the 
horrors.  But  you  mustn't  say  that.  Nobody  could 
think  it.  You  only  did  your  duty.  The  men  who 
led  him  into  temptation  are  to  blame,  my  father  most 
of  all.  And  I  have  no  defense  for  him.  I  —  I  don't 
think  I  can  ever  greatly  respect  him  again  —  or  even 
deeply  love  him.  He  isn't  worthy  of  your  considera 
tion.  But  I  don't  think  he  will  ever  commit  another 
crime,  even  if  he  has  the  chance.  And  —  he  is  my 
father. 

"  You  think,"  she  went  on  steadily,  "  that  it  is  only 
my  own  selfish  vanity  that  is  concerned.  It  is  partly 
that,  I  suppose.  But  it  is  more  that  I'm  afraid  for 
him.  He  is  half-crazed  from  fear  and  shock,  I  think 
—  I  couldn't  endure  many  more  nights  like  last  night. 
I  didn't  dare  leave  him  alone.  Even  to  come  here  I 
had  to  call  in  Senator  Murchell.  And  I'm  afraid,  if  it 
all  comes  out,  he'll  take  Warren  Blake's  way  out — " 

"  Don't ! "  he  cried  roughly,  as  if  in  pain.  "  I've 
gone  over  it  all." 

"  I'm  not  trying  to  frighten  you.  And  I  didn't 
want  to  —  to  come  to  you."  The  steadiness  was  leav 
ing  her.  She  thought  she  saw  in  his  lack  of  response 
a  hostile  determination.  "  I  have  no  right  to  ask  a 
man  —  such  as  you  are  —  to  sacrifice  himself,  his  con 
science  for  such  a  man.  I  can  offer  no  —  no  adequate 


328  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

return.  But  he  is  my  father,  and  it  is  not  —  it  can 
not  be  so  very  wrong  to  err  on  the  side  of  mercy. 
And  once  you  said  —  you  cared  — " 

"  It  was  true. —  It  has  always  been  true !  " 

His  voice  was  dull,  hopeless.  But  her  pallor  was 
suddenly  lost  in  the  rush  of  crimson.  Her  hands  be 
hind  her  clutched  at  the  curtains. 

''  You  said  once  I  —  a  rich  woman  would  have  to 
—  come  to  you  willingly  —  on  your  terms.  We  are 
no  longer  rich.  But  I  —  I  do  not  find  it  so  easy  to 
unsex  myself  — " 

He  misunderstood,  but  he  took  pity  on  her.  "  You 
don't  unsex  yourself,"  he  said  wearily,  "  since  I've 
just  told  you  I  care.  But  we  don't  need  to  introduce 
melodrama,  do  we?  What  I  will  do  will  not  be  be 
cause  you  ask  it,  but  because  it  is  for  you.  And  not 
for  a  price.  And  —  you  haven't  thought  it  out  very 
clearly,  have  you  ?  —  what  you  mean  is  impossible  in 
any  case.  If  I  went  on  with  the  investigation,  you 
couldn't  love  the  man  who  was  prosecuting  your 
father.  And,  just  because  you  understand  what  is 
right  in  the  case  and  are  what  you  are,  you  couldn't 
respect  and  so  couldn't  love  the  man  who  weakly  did 
what  was  wrong  to  him  —  even  for  you.  And  just 
now  —  you  are  very  anxious  to  save  your  father." 

The  flood  of  crimson  ebbed.  She  looked  at  him 
strangely.  "  Do  you  believe  —  that  ?  " 

"  I  know  it.  But  you  needn't  be  afraid  any  longer. 
Your  father  is  safe,  so  far  as  I  am  concerned.  That 
was  settled  before  you  came." 

She  turned  from  him,  in  an  immeasureable  relief, 
to  look  out  of  the  window.  The  voice  of  the  congre 
gation  rose  again  in  the  closing  hymn,  Onward, 


THE  VULNERABLE  HEEL  329 

Christian  Soldier!  She  listened.  Her  brave,  up 
right  carriage  relaxed,  her  head  drooped,  .as  though, 
the  strain  of  suspense  released,  the  fatigue  of  two 
sleepless  nights  had  suddenly  made  itself  felt.  He 
filled  his  eyes  and  heart  with  the  picture  of  her  there, 
the  golden  radiance  streaming  about  her  and  striking 
the  answering  glint  of  fire  from  her  hair.  Uncon 
sciously  he  moved  toward  her,  until  he  could  almost 
have  touched  her  arm.  They  listened  in  silence  as  the 
strains  of  the  battle-song  that  all  can  sing  rose  tri 
umphant.  But  to  him  it  seemed  the  very  refinement 
of  irony.  She  guessed  what  he  was  thinking. 

The  hymn  ended.  She  raised  her  head  and  faced 
him,  unshed  tears  in  her  eyes. 

"  John  Dunmeade,"  she  cried,  "  I  don't  know  yet 
how  much  of  what  you  have  said  is  true.  And  I  don't 
know  whether  you  have  been  weak  or  strong.  But 
there  are  finer  things  than  the  strength  of  heartless 
justice.  One  of  them  is  —  must  be  —  to  be  merciful, 
to  want  to  show  mercy  where  you  owe  none,  where 
you  believe  you  can  gain  nothing;  as  you  have  done. 
I  can't  —  I  shan't  try  to  thank  you.  But  I  shall  al 
ways  be  praying  for  you  all  the  good  things  you  have 
earned,  as  you  go  —  and  you  will  go  —  onward." 

He  merely  repeated  an  old  saying,  "  I  haven't 
thought  as  far  ahead  as  to-morrow." 

"  And  now,"  he  added  quietly,  "  you'd  better  go, 
before  church  lets  out.  If  people  saw  you  here,  it 
might  set  them  thinking." 

He  followed  her  to  the  door. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

WHO    PAYS? 

WARREN  BLAKE'S  body  was  buried,  and  his 
tragedy  with  it.     The  luck  had  held  to  the  last ; 
no  suspicion  of  a  lurking  mystery  had  been  breathed. 
And  William  Murchell  returned  from  the  funeral  to 
a  birth. 

His  enemies  have  called  him  inhuman,  lacking  in 
moral  sensibility ;  there  are  episodes  in  his  career  which 
support  the  charge.  But  deep  down  within  him  had 
always  lain  something  that,  long  pregnating,  now 
fought  to  win  to  the  light.  He  had  felt  it  move  first 
when  a  hot-eyed  young  reformer  with  more  passion 
than  truth  had  declared  the  strategy,  of  which  the 
master  was  so  proud,  to  be  nothing  but  the  furtive 
workings  of  primitive,  dishonest  craft.  It  had 
stirred  again  in  a  moment  of  resentment  when  with 
bitter  cynicism  he  had  recounted  his  services  to  a 
treacherous  monarch;  and  again  in  the  depression  of 
unaccustomed  defeat  and  illness ;  and  yet  again  when 
a  humiliated,  rage-shaken  enemy  had  drawn  an  ugly 
comparison.  And  as,  keen  mind  tracing  back  with 
lightning  swiftness  to  prime  causes,  he  had  watched 
the  death-throes  of  Warren  Blake,  it  had  begun  the 
final  struggle  for  complete,  distinct  life.  New  life  is 
not  brought  forth  without  agony.  And  the  soul  of 
Murchell  writhed  in  labor.  It  was  not  physical  hor- 

330 


WHO  PAYS?  33 r 

TOT;  that,  though  older  and  weaker  in  body  than  John 
Dunmeade,  he  had  overcome  while  the  other  was  being 
overwhelmed.  It  was  spiritual  revolt,  and  it  shattered 
the  smug  complacency  with  which  he  had  always  ob 
served  himself,  rent  the  tissues  of  lies  and  hypocrisies 
with  which  he  had  defended  his  achievements.  He 
was  suddenly  arraigned  before  himself,  become  by 
the  tragedy  most  pitiless  of  judges.  Startled,  an 
gered,  protesting  as  at  some  gross  outrage  put  upon 
him,  the  habit  of  a  lifetime  strove  to  strangle  the 
new  being  at  its  very  birth  —  in  vain. 

The  vigorous  mentality  that  had  hungered  and 
thirsted  for  action,  lusted  for  sharp  combat,  sought 
insatiably  for  power  and  ever  more  power,  now  turned 
upon  himself;  with  precise,  merciless  strokes  dissected 
his  life  for  him,  revealed  its  essential  ugliness,  dis 
closed  overlooked  potentialities.  There  is  no  fact 
more  tragic  than  the  strong  man,  who  has  battled  un 
ceasingly,  confronted  with  the  truth  that  his  striving 
has  been  worthless,  purposeless.  And  not  always 
does  the  dazzling,  white  light  of  revelation  come  to- 
men  while  there  is  yet  time  to  perceive  and  serve  the 
new  purpose.  To  Murchell,  purpose  had  not  yet  come, 
but  the  sordidness,  the  narrowness,  the  cruelty  of 
strength  misused,  he  saw. 

It  was  the  evening  after  the  funeral.  He  was 
alone  in  his  library.  But  he  was  not  reading.  He 
was  angrily  watching  the  gathering  of  a  belated  force 
in  his  existence. 

He  frowned  when  from  the  hall  came  the  sounds 
of  altercation,  heated  on  one  side  and  coolly  confident 
on  the  other.  Then  the  door  was  thrown  open  and 
Haig,  followed  by  the  protestant  man-servant,  entered. 


33.2  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

The  novelist  briskly  crossed  the  room  and  planted 
himself  in  a  chair  before  Murchell. 

The  involuntary  host  greeted  him  inhospitably.  "  I 
told  Jim  I  would  see  nobody  to-night." 

"  So  the  Ethiop  told  me,"  said  Haig  blandly,  "  but 
I  assured  him  that  I  had  an  appointment.  And  so  I 
had.  I  promised  myself  to  come  to  see  you  to-night." 

Murchell  waved  to  the  servant,  who  promptly  dis 
appeared.  "  Well,  what  do  you  want  ?  " 

"  You  remember,  Saturday  night  I  said  you  and  I 
would  have  to  discuss  the  matter  of  payment?  '  The 
time  has  come,  the  walrus  said.'  ' 

"Well?" 

"  Senator  Murchell,  have  you  a  conscience  ?  " 

"  Are  you  trying  to  be  impertinent,  young  man  ?  " 

"How  impertinent?  A  conscience  isn't  necessarily 
disgraceful,  though  it's  often  a  nuisance.  I'm  merely 
trying  to  verify  an  impression.  The  other  night, 
while  you  were  watching  Warren  Blake  die,  I  got  the 
notion  that  you  had  one." 

"  No  doubt,  you  were  vastly  surprised ! "  Very 
sarcastic,  this. 

"  Since  you  ask  me,  I  was.  I  have  always  shared 
the  present  popular  opinion  of  you." 

"Humph!" 

"  Exactly!  Senator,  you  have  the  gift  of  using  the 
right  word.  A  thousand  Solomons  couldn't  have  ap 
praised  the  value  of  public  opinion  more  nicely  than 
that  *  Humph ! '  However,  your  conscience  is  prob 
ably  so  minute  as  to  be  inconsiderable." 

He  leaned  back  comfortably,  placed  his  finger-tips 
accurately  together  and  began  to  unburden  himself. 
"  Well,  it's  all  over.  Warren  Blake  is  out  of  the 


WHO  PAYS?  333 

way.  Hampden  won't  be  disgraced.  There's  to  be 
no  scandal.  Your  plans  to  save  the  bank  are  under 
way.  Other  plans  of  yours  are  no  longer  in  jeopardy. 
So  it's  time  to  think  of  payment.  I  just  dropped  in 
to  inquire,  what  is  the  market  price  of  souls  at  pres 
ent?" 

"Souls?" 

"  Precisely.  They're  a  chief  article  of  commerce 
among  you  politicians,  I  believe.  There's  Dun- 
meade's,  for  instance.  I  have  just  come  from  him. 
He  isn't  a  very  happy  man,  Senator  Murchell.  He's 
oppressed  by  the  knowledge  that  he  has  been  weak. 
He  has  lost  his  pride,  his  belief  in  himself,  his  sense 
of  absolute  honesty  —  call  it  soul  for  short.  The 
poor  fool  even  thinks  he  is  to  blame  for  Warren 
Blake's  shooting  himself.  Ah!  you  smile?  " 

"  I  wasn't  aware  of  smiling,"  said  Murchell  shortly. 

"  Well,  you  ought  to.  The  notion  is  absurd,  of 
course.  You  and  I  know  better.  We  know  who 
killed  Cock  Robin."  Haig  laughed  insinuatingly. 

"  You  have  a  strange  sense  of  humor.  Just  what 
are  you  trying  to  insinuate  ?  " 

"  I  mean  that  we  know  that  the  man  who  killed 
Warren  Blake  was  the  man  who  killed  Creighton, 
Hawkins,  Delehanty,  Burns,  Schneider  and  Larkin. 
And  he's  the  fellow  that  created  an  atmosphere  of  dis 
honesty  in  political  banks  and  public  treasuries,  made 
opportunities  for  thievery,  encouraged  and  profited  by 
peculation  —  in  short,  the  man  who  devised  and  built 
the  machine  whose  creatures  and  victims  have  paid 
the  penalty  of  their  crimes  with  suicide.  Do  I  make 
myself  clear?  I'd  hate  to  have  that  list  of  suicides 
on  my  conscience  —  Creighton,  Hawkins,  Delehanty, 


334  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

Burns,  Schneider,  Larkin,  each  with  the  messy  little 
hole  in  his  head,  the  starting,  glazing  eyes,  the  — 
Ugh!  You  know  what  it  looks  like  now.  And  you 
can  cut  another  notch  in  your  gun,  Senator  Murchell 
—  for  Warren  Blake." 

Murchell  sat  up  angrily.  "  That  isn't  true.  I'm 
not  responsible  if  a  few  weaklings  aren't  able  to  resist 
temptation  and  take  the  easiest  way  out." 

"  It  was  Cain,  I  believe,"  Haig  purred,  "  who  first 
pleaded  that  excuse." 

"  See  here,  Haig!  I'm  a  patient  man."  His  man 
ner  hardly  supported  this  statement.  "  But  there  are 
limits  to  my  patience,  even  when  talking  to  a  rattle 
brained  eccentric.  If  you  have  anything  important  to 
say,  say  it.  Otherwise  — " 

Haig  leaned  over,  interrupting.  "  When  he  can't 
help  himself,  a  patient  man  listens  to  whatever  is  said 
to  him.  Just  now  you  can't  help  yourself.  And," 
he  added  menacingly,  tapping  the  senator's  knee  to 
emphasize  his  words,  "  I'd  advise  you  to  listen.  Will 
you?" 

"  Go  on." 

"  That's  sensible."  Haig  resumed  his  easy  attitude. 
"  All  this  is  important  as  leading  up  to  our  discussion 
of  the  value  of  souls.  Let's  take  up  Dunmeade's  case. 
We  have  a  brave,  if  not  very  successful,  fighter  for  a 
Cause  —  a  Cause,  you  understand,  with  a  capital  C. 
He  stumbles  upon  a  bit  of  information  that  seems  to 
require  certain  action.  He  enters  upon  that  action 
and  finds  worse  than  he  expected.  Warren  Blake 
shoots  himself.  A  scandal  impends.  Hampden  is 
threatened  with  disgrace  —  perhaps  worse.  And 
Dunmeade  stops.  He  pays  for  the  privilege  of  stop- 


WHO  PAYS?  335 

ping  with  some  peace  of  mind  and  self-respect.  That 
ought  to  be  worth  something  to  you,  oughtn't  it?  " 

"  He  didn't  do  it  for  me." 

"  You  anticipate  the  argument,  Senator.  It  is  true, 
he  didn't  do  it  for  you.  He  did  it  for  Katherine 
Hampden.  You  and  I  don't  think  much  of  her,  a 
mannish,  passionate,  forward  thing  with  the  savage's 
weakness  for  brilliant  gewgaws.  But  the  man's  in 
love  with  her.  Still,  that  isn't  the  point.  It  is  — 
something  of  value  has  been  rendered,  and  the  one 
who  profits  most  by  it  will  have  to  pay  for  it.  You 
see  that,  don't  you?" 

"  Get  on  with  what  you  have  to  say." 

"  Dunmeade's  mouth  is  closed.  The  question  now 
is,  who  profits  most  by  his  silence  and  hence  will  have 
to  pay?  It  isn't  Hampden.  I  think  I  understand  the 
political  situation  pretty  well.  Just  now,  when  you're 
trying  to  scramble  back  into  power  and  Jerry  Brent 
has  taken  their  convention  out  of  the  hands  of  your 
Democratic  friends,  for  another  bank  in  which  you 
politicians  have  had  your  dirty  fingers  to  fail,  with 
another  cashier  putting  a  messy  little  hole  in  his  head, 
would  be  most  inopportune.  Also,  you've  put  up 
money  to  cover  Hampden's  shortage.  I've  never 
heard  you  accused  of  doing  anything  for  anybody 
without  return.  And  since  you've  put  up  a  lot  of 
money  without  security,  it  must  be  because  silence 
just  now  is  peculiarly  valuable  to  you.  Now  do  you 
get  the  point  ?  Are  you  ready  to  pay  ?  " 

"  Haven't  I  paid  enough?  " 

"  Can  you  ever  pay  enough  to  balance  what  Warren 
Blake  and  John  Dunmeade  have  paid?  " 

"  What  do  you  want  then  ?  " 


336  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

"  Well,  you're  trying  to  get  back  into  power  through 
the  convention.  The  general  impression  is  that  you 
can't  beat  Sherrod.  But  I  guess  differently.  You're 
not  the  kind  of  man  to  go  back  into  the  scramble  un 
less  the  chances  for  a  win  are  pretty  good.  Well  — 
nominate  John  Dunmeade."  He  paused  in  astonish 
ment.  "  Eh  ?  You're  not  surprised  ?  You've  thought 
of  it  yourself,  then!  " 

"  The  thing,"  exclaimed  Murchell,  and  extreme  irri 
tation  was  speaking,  "  is  preposterous !  " 

"You  have  thought  of  it  as  much  as  that,  then? 
But  why  preposterous  to  nominate  a  fine,  big,  honest 
man?  He  has  ability.  His  record  is  flawless,  or  will 
be  so  long  as  this  bank  business  doesn't  come  out. 
He  has  the  respect  of  everybody,  even  yours,  though 
a  stiff-necked  and  rebellious  generation  has  cast  him 
aside.  Measure  him  against  Wash  Jenkins  or  any 
one  of  your  kind  you  choose;  his  character  is  some 
thing  you  haven't  been  able  to  go  to  the  people  with 
for  many  a  year  in  this  state.  And  his  nomination 
would  pull  the  teeth  of  dangerous  Jerry  Brent." 

"  Power,"  said  the  senator  virtuously,  "  isn't  to  be 
taken  lightly.  Even  if  I  could  do  it,  which  isn't 
probable,  I  certainly  don't  propose  to  make  a  joke,  a 
fool,  of  myself  before  the  political  public  by  helping 
a  narrow,  pig-headed,  unpractical  romancer  to  a  pow 
erful  office.  The  wrong  man  in  power  can  do  a  ter 
rible  amount  of  damage,  young  man." 

"  Yes,  that's  been  proven,"  said  Haig  dryly.  "  But 
'  unpractical '  and  '  romancer  ' —  you  need  a  new  point 
of  view,  Senator.  Just  what  is  romance?  Gilding 
the  truth,  of  course,  to  make  it  seem  beautiful  when 
it  is  ugly,  giving  the  appearance  of  value  to  what  has 


WHO  PAYS?  337 

none.  And  what  is  a  practical  man  but  one  who  sees 
and  understands  the  needs  of  men  and  honestly  tries 
to  serve  them,  offers  an  easy,  simple  avenue  to  hu 
manity's  goal,  which,  I  take  it,  is  happiness.  Your 
man  of  wealth,  continually  grabbing  for  more  than  he 
can  possibly  consume  or  wisely  use,  is  the  true  ro 
mancer.  Your  boss,  who  sees  something  beautiful  in 
naked,  purposeless  power,  is  another.  You  are  a  ro 
mancer,  Senator  Murchell.  John  Dunmeade  is  the 
most  practical  man  I  know,  because  he  sees  true,  sees 
evil  as  evil  and  good  as  good.  If  the  world  were  to 
adopt  his  ideal  of  subordination  of  self,  happiness, 
universal  happiness,  would  be  attained  in  a  day.  To 
be  more  specific,  if  this  state  were  to  follow  his  ideal 
of  simple,  straightforward,  common-sense  honesty, 
political  corruption  would  cease  to  exist,  a  vast  amount 
of  injustice  would  be  corrected  and  popular  govern 
ment  justified." 

"  It  can't  be  done." 

"  You  mean  it  won't  be  done.  It  can  be.  It  won't 
be  done  because  the  world  is  so  full  of  romancers,  for 
ever  chasing  the  valueless,  that  a  really  practical  man, 
offering  a  natural,  logical  solution  of  its  difficulties, 
isn't  listened  to.  You'll  have  to  find  another  excuse, 
Senator  Murchell." 

"  Well,  then,"  said  the  senator  grimly,  "  you  may 
put  it  that  I,  a  seeker  after  the  valueless,  don't  propose 
to  help  a  practical  man  who  has  rejected  my  honest 
offer  of  friendship  and  spent  six  years  villifying  me 
before  the  people  of  this  state." 

"  So  that's  why  it's  preposterous  ?  That's  the  meas 
ure  of  your  sort,  is  it  ?  Fighting  you,  telling  the  truth 
about  you,  are  what  disqualify  a  man  for  public  office. 


338  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

You  grind  everybody,  everything  —  life,  death,  trag 
edy,  love  —  in  the  mills  of  your  greedy  ambition,  and 
you  are  willing  to  pay  only  the  least  penny  you  must. 
Blake  the  suicide,  Hampden  the  embezzler,  Dunmeade 
the  lover,  are  but  so  many  pawns  in  the  game  of  Mur- 
chell  the  —  can  you  give  me  the  word  ?  " 

"  Your  vivid  imagination  ought  to  be  equal  to  that." 
But  the  senator  began  to  feel  that  he  was  nearing  the 
point  where  patience  ceased  to  be  a  virtue. 

"  For  once  it  balks.  But  that's  of  incidental  im 
portance.  I  have  seldom  received  so  low  a  compli 
ment.  I  am  overlooked  in  this  situation.  I,  too,  am 
a  passive  pawn  in  the  game  of  Murchell,  to  be  moved 
or  disregarded  as  he  chooses!  Dunmeade's  mouth  is 
closed.  But,  Senator  Murchell,  I  know  as  much  as 
he."  He  sprang  to  his  feet.  "  What's  to  hinder  me 
from  publishing  the  scandal,  from  telling  the  people 
that  another  bank  has  been  looted  by  the  politicians, 
another  added  to  the  list  of  Creighton,  Hawkins,  Dele- 
hanty  — " 

"  I  thought  we'd  come  to  that.  I'm  not  easily 
frightened,  Haig.  You  won't  do  it." 

Haig  seated  himself  on  the  table,  the  homely,  ca 
daverous  features  lighting  up  in  a  sardonic  grin. 
"  Now  the  funny  part  of  it  is,  you  aren't  sure  whether 
I'm  bluffing  or  not.  Let  me  assure  you,  I  am  not. 
We're  a  pretty  triangle,  each  with  the  drop  on  the  man 
in  front  of  him.  You  hold  over  Dunmeade's  head 
the  fact  of  Hampden's  disgrace,  he  gets  me  with  his 
friendship,  and  I  can  bring  you  down  with  my  knowl 
edge  of  this  bank  business.  I'd  hate  to  lose  Dun 
meade's  regard  by  confronting  him  with  the  necessity 
of  prosecuting  his  lady-love's  father.  But,  by  the 


WHO  PAYS?  339 

Lord!  I'm  not  afraid  to  fire  first.  And  I  think  you 
believe  that." 

Murchell  did  not  answer.  He  was  making  a  strong 
effort  to  control  his  rising  irritation.  But  he  listened 
intently  because  he  did  not  know  Haig  well  enough 
to  decide  whether  the  latter  was  really  dangerous. 

"  You  think  my  motive  is  lacking,  perhaps?  "  Haig 
inquired  coolly.  "  I'll  come  to  that  in  time.  Do  you 
know  how  I'd  figure  out  the  situation,  if  I  were  you? 
I'd  say  to  myself,  '  Here  am  I,  a  dry-veined  old  Phari 
see,  trying  to  climb  back  into  power  after  the  people 
and  the  interests  I've  lied,  thieved  and  corrupted  for 
have  kicked  me  out.  Out  of  all  the  years  of  my  po 
litical  life  I  haven't  one  fine  piece  of  statesmanship, 
one  great,  substantial  thing  done  for  the  people  whose 
government  I  have  stolen,  to  justify  my  career.'  You 
haven't  such  a  justification,  have  you?  I'll  let  you  be 
the  judge.  Name  it  and  I'll  walk  right  out  of  this 
room,  taking  my  request  with  me." 

"  When  I  undertake  to  defend  myself,"  said  Mur 
chell  with  such  coldness  as  he  could  achieve,  "  it  will 
be  before  a  less  prejudiced  judge." 

"  You're  to  be  the  judge,  not  I.  Name  the  one 
fine,  decent,  vital  thing  that  will  clear  your  path." 

He  waited. 

Murchell  was  angry  now,  far  angrier  than  when 
Sherrod  had  drawn  his  comparison.  And  he  needed 
anger,  not  as  a  defense  to  Haig's  assault  on  his  com 
placency,  but  because  what  he  had  just  heard  was  an 
echo  of  what  the  new-born  inner  monitor  had  been 
declaring. 

"  He  can't !  He  can't  justify  himself !  "  Haig  had 
a  nasty,  sneering  laugh  that  grated  on  the  nerves. 


340  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

"  And  then,"  he  went  on  remorselessly,  "  I'd  say, 
•'  In  the  little  time  left  me  I  can't  make  up  with  good 
for  the  evil  I've  done.  Death-bed  repentance  isn't 
worth  much.  But  there's  John  Dunmeade.  I  am 
what  I  call  a  practical  man  —  that  last  refinement  of 
the  type,  a  practical  politician  —  and  I  can't  under 
stand  it,  but  I  know  that  Dunmeade  is  a  man  to  whom 
honesty,  decency,  patriotism  —  empty  words  to  most 
men  —  really  have  a  meaning.  There  are  a  few  such 
men.  He  has  fought  honestly  in  the  face  of  defeat 
for  something  I  have  no  use  for,  an  ideal,  a  thing  that 
only  such  fools  as  dreamers,  poets  and  novelists  be 
lieve  in.  And  now,  through  love  for  a  woman  who 
isn't  worth  while,  he  has  committed  what  to  him  is  a 
weakness.  I  can't  understand  how  compromise  with 
conscience  should  bring  suffering  to  a  man,  but  I  know 
it  means  that  to  him.  And  I  profit  by  it.  I  can't 
rub  out  the  record  of  the  six  —  no,  seven  —  men,  each 
with  the  messy  little  hole  in  his  head,  nor  of  the 
thousands  of  others  who  have  sold  their  souls  to 
make  me  rich  and  powerful.  But,  instead  of 
sneaking  back  into  my  old  place  as  corrupter-in-chief 
to  Big  Money,  I  can  make  Dunmeade's  weakness  worth 
something.  I  can  enter  one  decent  achievement  on 
the  blank  side  of  my  ledger.  I  can  put  an  honest  man 
where  he  can  accomplish  a  little  of  the  good  he  has 
dreamed  of  doing/ 

"  And  then,  even  if  the  thought  of  having  some 
justification  for  my  existence  didn't  stir  me,  I'd  say, 
*  And  here's  Haig,  the  melodramatic,  rattle-brained 
eccentric,  who  has  come  here  thinking  he  could  arouse 
what  I  haven't  got  —  a  conscience.  And  Haig  has 
an  old  grudge  against  me  to  wipe  out.' ' 


WHO  PAYS?  341 

"  What  have  I  ever  done  to  you  ?  " 

"  Now  for  my  motive. —  Do  you  remember  Wrenn 
—  George  Wrenn  of  Clarion?  Or  have  there  been  so 
many  Wrenns  that  you  can't  keep  track  of  them?  Let 
me  tell  you  his  story.  He  was  a  preacher,  not  a  very 
strong  man,  but  a  fine,  big,  clean-hearted  fellow  — 
something  like  John  Dunmeade  —  who  believed  in  his 
fellowmen  and  loved  them, —  the  kind  that  would  sit 
up  all  night  with  any  poor,  suffering  wretch  or  share 
his  last  dollar  with  those  who  needed  it  less  than  he 
did.  Everybody  loved  him.  He  married  a  widow 
who  had  one  son.  He  was  a  good  husband,  and  a 
perfect  father  to  that  boy.  I  know,  because  I  was 
the  boy.  They  had  a  reform  wavelet  in  Clarion  and 
sent  Wrenn  to  the  legislature.  That  was  the  year 
you  almost  failed  of  reelection  to  the  senate.  It  cost 
you  a  million  and  a  quarter  to  win,  you  may  remem 
ber.  There  was  a  point  where  you  needed  just  one 
vote,  and  your  decoys  got  after  Wrenn.  He  held  out 
for  a  while,  but  —  O,  you  know  how  it  works.  He 
was  poor,  there  was  more  money  in  sight  than  he  had 
ever  heard  of,  and  they  found  his  price  —  at  seven 
teen  thousand  dollars.  And  he  was  cheap,  too,  com 
paratively.  I  think  he  must  have  been  temporarily 
out  of  his  mind,  for  he  didn't  really  care  for  money. 
He  went  home,  a  shame-broken  man.  They  couldn't 
prove  it  on  him,  but  everybody  knew  he  had  taken 
money.  They  turned  against  him,  his  wife  died 
broken-hearted  and  he  had  to  leave  Clarion.  The 
money  was  soon  spent;  that  kind  never  lasts.  He 
went  down-hill  fast  and  finally,  a  miserable,  drunken 
wretch,  he  put  a  bullet  through  his  head.  I  saw  him 
do  it  —  just  as  Warren  Blake  did  it.  So  you  can  cut 


342  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

still  another  notch  in  your  gun.  Eight  on  the  list  now 
—  Creighton  — " 

"Quit  that!" 

"Good  God!"  Haig  jeered.  "I  believe  he  has  a 
conscience,  after  all.  Can  you  sleep  o'  nights,  Senator 
Murchell?" 

Murchell  got  slowly  to  his  feet,  in  his  eyes  a  light 
so  terrible  that  even  Haig  for  a  moment  was  startled. 

"You  —  you— " 

Haig  laughed  insolently.  "  Go  on,  Caiaphas,  say 
it.  Say  the  thing  that  will  restore  your  smug  com 
placency." 

But  it  was  not  said. 

White  heat  consumes  quickly.  The  dumb  passion 
soon  burned  itself  out.  The  rigid  pose  melted  into 
one  of  utter  weariness. 

Haig  watched,  incredulous  yet  pitiless.  "  I  sup 
pose,"  he  said,  "  if  I  put  it  in  a  book,  nobody  would 
believe  it.  I  don't  know  that  I  believe  it  myself,  yet. 
But  you  can  understand  now  that  I  am  sufficiently 
dangerous  to  —  er  —  merit  your  consideration?" 

"  He  wouldn't  take  it  —  at  my  hands."  The  arro 
gant  habit  of  a  lifetime  had  ceased  to  protest. 

"Dunmeade?  O,  that's  a  problem  in  psychology. 
I  think  he  will.  In  fact,  I  know  it,  since  I  came  here 
with  full  power  of  attorney  from  him.  With  men 
like  Dunmeade  the  first  compromise  is  the  crucial  one. 
As  to  means,  you  will  find  him  more  tractable,  I  fancy. 
My  own  opinion  is,  he  will  be  a  more  useful  man  for. 
it.  He  won't  be  very  happy  at  first,  though. —  I'll  be 
saying  good  night." 

He  took  a  few  steps  toward  the  door,  then  stopped, 


WHO  PAYS?  343^ 

hesitating.  He  turned  back.  His  insolent,  overbear 
ing  manner  fell  from  him. 

"  Senator,"  he  said  quietly,  "  I  may  have  overdone 
it.  Wrenn,  Blake,  all  those  fellows,  aren't  worth  a 
qualm.  Dunmeade  is  — " 

But  Murchell  was  not  listening.  He  had  forgotten 
Haig.  He  was  watching  the  second  birth  of  a  young 
man  who  once  had  been. 

Not  the  next  day,  nor  the  next,  but  on  the  third, 
the  travail  ended,  William  Murchell  emerged  from  his 
brief,  mysterious  retirement,  to  place  himself  at  the 
head  of  his  clamorous  troops.  It  has  been  said  that 
the  campaign  which  followed  was  the  most  brilliant 
of  his  career. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

THE   BIG   LIFE 

day  John  Dunmeade  stood  before  the  people 
of  his  state  a  lonely  figure,  almost  forgotten  amid 
the  tumult  of  discussion  that  raged  over  the  respective 
merits  of  Sherrod  and  Jenkins.  On  the  next  a  few 
heads  turned  questioningly  toward  him,  a  few  news 
papers  began  darkly  to  hint  that  his  candidacy  might 
be  more  formidable  than  had  been  supposed.  The  exi 
gencies  of  the  Republican  case,  it  seemed,  demanded 
that  Jerry  Brent  be  met  with  a  candidate  of  equal  or 
greater  fitness ;  and  neither  Jenkins  nor  Sherrod  were 
entirely  palatable  to  the  people.  Other  molders  of 
opinion  followed  suit.  Soon  a  small  host  of  them 
were  shrieking  that  John  Dunmeade  must  be  nom 
inated.  The  times  required  it,  the  people  demanded 
it,  no  one  else  could  beat  Jerry  Brent;  in  short,  if  these 
members  of  the  press  were  to  be  believed,  the  Repub 
lican  party  was  in  danger  of  defeat  and  had  experi 
enced  a  timely  conviction  of  sin.  Within  a  few  days 
half  the  newspapers  of  the  state  were  loudly  trumpet 
ing  that  Dunmeade's  services  to  his  party  must  be  re 
warded  ;  the  other  half  laboriously  denying  that  service 
had  been  rendered  and  sneeringly  pointing  to  the  late 
primaries  in  Benton  County  as  evidence  of  his  popu 
lar  weakness.  In  the  general  uproar  the  plaintive 

344 


THE  BIG  LIFE  345 

piping  of  the  New  Chelsea  Globe,  veraciously  claim 
ing  to  have  been  first  to  support  the  Dunmeade  boom, 
was  almost  lost. 

No  one  suspected  a  prompter. 

The  people,  so  insistently  told  that  they  demanded 
the  choice  of  the  young  reformer,  began  to  believe  it. 
A  surprising  number  suddenly  discovered  that  they 
"  had  always  been  for  Dunmeade  anyway  " ;  they  were 
exceedingly  proud  of  the  fact.  The  thing  was  con 
tagious.  Gradual  but  swift  as  the  rising  Chinook,  it 
swept  over  the  state,  a  flood  of  enthusiasm.  Part 
of  it  was  genuine;  far  down  in  their  hearts,  beneath 
the  calloused  crust,  the  moral  sluggishness  that  hated 
change,  lay  a  germinating  civic  consciousness  im 
planted  by  the  very  man  who  had  become  a  hero  over 
night.  Now  it  spoke  and  without  fear  because  when 
all  were  shouting  courage  was  not  needed.  With  an 
impulsive  generosity  as  kindly  as  illogical,  they  re 
membered  the  years  of  his  discouragement  and  pro 
ceeded  to  the  other  —  and  more  dangerous  —  extreme 
of  raising  him  on  a  pedestal.  The  politicians  —  all 
but  a  few  —  were  astounded ;  supporters  of  Jenkins 
and  Sherrod  alike  were  profoundly  alarmed.  One 
would  have  said  that  somebody,  finding  dry  wood  and 
tinder  already  laid  and  the  wind  blowing  high,  had 
struck  the  spark  and  set  the  pile  ablaze. 

Somebody  had.  But  that  somebody  kept  out  of 
sight  as  long  as  possible. 

Two  days  before  the  convention  the  Honorable  G. 
Washington  Jenkins  bowed  to  the  storm. 

"  I  yield,"  he  said,  "  to  a  spontaneous  demand  of 
the  people." 

"  Sentiment,"    declared    Murchell    solemnly,    "  has 


346  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

crystallized.  Dunmeade's  the  man."  He  explained 
that  this  decision  had  been  reached  by  him  in  view  of 
the  evident  wish  of  the  people,  and  he  added  truth 
fully  that  he  had  not  seen  nor  discussed  the  approach 
ing  convention  with  John  Dunmeade.  The  Murchell 
men  in  the  organization  whooped  with  delight.  A 
stroke  of  genius  this,  the  master  allying  himself  with 
the  popular  candidate.  Politicians  dislike  to  run  coun 
ter  to  the  people,  save  when  stern  necessity  compels. 

The  day  before  the  convention  the  delegates  began 
to  gather  at  the  capital,  picked  men  —  if  not  wisely 
picked  —  of  their  clans ;  and  chieftains  of  high  and 
low  degree  come  to  view,  to  participate  in,  perhaps 
to  share  the  spoils  of,  the  impending  battle  of  giants. 
In  parlor  A  of  the  State  Hotel  sat  Murchell  and  in 
parlor  B  of  the  Lochinvar  sat  Sherrod,  playing 
against  each  other  for  votes.  Between  them  fluttered 
the  delegates  and  those  who  had  delegates  to  sell,  like 
hungry  summer  flies.  But  they  found  —  the  little 
fellows  at  least  —  no  honey-pot  at  Murchell's  end ; 
no  scandal  must  mar  the  nomination  of  Dunmeade. 
(As  for  the  captains  of  tens  and  captains  of  hundreds, 
that  is  another  matter,  into  which  we  may  not  in 
trude.  ) 

In  crowded  streets  and  sweltering,  smoke-clouded 
lobbies  excitement  ran  high.  Men  forgot  the  op 
pressive  heat  of  the  night  in  the  more  fervent  heat  of 
conflict.  The  din  of  vociferous  argument,  brazen 
prophecy  and  equally  loud  speculation  rose.  Through 
it  was  a  new  undercurrent  —  of  fear.  If,  as  Sherrod 
was  proclaiming,  Murchell  had  started  the  conflagra 
tion,  he  had  made  a  risky  move.  For  if  Sherrod 
were  now  successful  in  the  convention,  what  seer  so 


THE  BIG  LIFE  347 

bold  as  to  foretell  victory  over  Jerry  Brent  in  the 
elections  ?  Neutrals  anxiously  strove  to  learn  whither 
the  tide  of  battle  ran. 

They  wondered,  as  did  friends  and  spies,  at  the 
air  of  confidence  that  reigned  in  the  Murchell  camp, 
now  become  the  Dunmeade  rallying  ground.  It  was 
the  only  quiet  spot  in  the  capital,  contrasted  signifi 
cantly  with  the  nervous  atmosphere  of  the  Sherrod 
headquarters.  Such  contentment  with  the  situation 
could  not  be  feigned!  It  was  infectious;  it  spread 
out  among  the  delegates  who  had  pledged  themselves 
to  vote  for  Dunmeade,  and  nullified  the  frantic  efforts 
of  Parrott  (nominally  managing  Sherrod's  cam 
paign)  to  start  a  stampede;  it  kept  the  neutrals  waver 
ing. 

Those  delegates  and  captains  who  met  the  leader 
perceived  not  that  since  Sherrod  had  defeated  him 
two  years  before  a  new  Murchell  had  been  born. 
They  saw  only  the  same  resourceful,  compelling, 
steadfast  general  riding  back  into  power.  They  re 
peated  credulously  the  popular  fiction,  always  en 
couraged  by  him,  that  he  had  never  gone  back  on  a 
deal;  many  were  present  who  could  testify  otherwise 
of  Sherrod.  They  would  not  have  believed  that  in 
this  battle,  in  which  his  skill  shone  brightest,  the  old 
warrior  spirit  joyed  not  at  all. 

And  over  the  scene  of  conflict  hovered  a  formless 
one,  unseen,  unheard,  unfelt,  as  spirits  always  are, 
waiting  but  for  the  crucial  moment  to  swoop  down 
and  decide  the  issue. 

Came  a  lull  in  the  battle,  an  hour  toward  morning 
when  the  delegates  had  retired  to  allotted  cots  or 
halves  of  beds  or,  more  often,  to  woo  Fortune  over 


348  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

some  table  of  chance,  when  the  reeking  lobbies  were 
depopulated  and  the  headquarters  of  the  generals  de 
serted  by  all  but  their  respective  staffs  and  the  yawn 
ing  reporters.  In  parlor  A  of  the  State  Hotel  quiet 
yet  reigned,  the  quiet  of  men  resting  on  their  arms. 
Greene  and  the  half  dozen  other  men  present,  hollow- 
eyed  and  pale  but  under  too  heavy  strain  for  sleep, 
conversed  by  fits  and  starts.  Their  chieftain  sat  by 
a  paper-strewn  table,  eyes  closed  and  head  bent  for 
ward  as  though  he  were  dozing.  His  companions 
had  urged  him  to  seek  his  bed  for  a  few  hours'  rest, 
but  he  had  refused ;  he  seemed  to  be  waiting  for  some 
thing  of  which  they  had  no  inkling. 

His  waiting  was  not  in  vain. 

There  was  a  knock  on  the  door  and  Greene  ad 
mitted  a  messenger,  him  who  once  before  had  lured 
Murchell  from  his  retreat  on  an  errand,  if  not  of 
mercy,  at  least  of  salvation.  Murchell  was  instantly 
awake.  Paine  went  to  him  and  whispered  his  mes 
sage.  Murchell  shook  his  head. 

"  Tell  him,"  he  said  aloud,  "  if  he  wants  to  see  me, 
he'll  have  to  come  here." 

Paine  whispered  a  protest. 

"  Tell  him,"  Murchell  cut  him  short,  "  John  Heath 
will  meet  him  here." 

The  messenger  started,  looked  hastily  around  at 
the  others  and  grinned  in  sickly  fashion.  But  he 
departed  immediately,  leaving  the  men  in  the  room  to 
wonder  what  charm  lay  in  the  unfamiliar  name  of 
John  Heath. 

In  less  than  five  minutes,  rumor  outrunning  the 
fact,  the  hotel  was  alive;  Sherrod  had  asked  for  a 
conference  with  Murchell!  The  reporters  ceased  to 


THE  BIG  LIFE  349 

yawn.  Poker  games  were  brought  to  an  abrupt  end. 
In  the  corridors,  in  various  stages  of  disarray,  gath 
ered  a  knot  of  excited  delegates  whom  the  news  had 
mysteriously  reached. 

Murchell  men  smiled  triumphantly  when  they  saw 
Parrott  and  Sherrod,  wearing  an  air  of  confidence 
not  wholly  convincing,  emerge  from  the  elevator  and 
make  their  way  along  the  corridor  to  parlor  A.  The 
delegates  pressed  eagerly  behind  them  to  the  door. 

Sherrod  and  Parrott  entered,  carefully  closing  the 
door  behind  them  to  the  intense  disappointment  of  the 
delegates  outside.  Parrott  went  jauntily  up  to  Mur 
chell  and  shook  hands. 

"  Well,"  he  grinned,  "  we've  been  having  a  fine 
little  shindy,  eh  ?  "  This  for  the  reporters. 

"  Glad,"  grunted  Murchell,  "  you're  enjoying  it." 
There  was  a  laugh  in  which  Parrott  did  not  join. 
Neither  Sherrod  nor  Murchell  offered  salutation  to  the 
other  beyond  a  brief  nod. 

The  senator  waved  his  hand  and  all  but  Greene  left 
the  room,  reluctant  but  obedient. 

"Well?"  Murchell  looked  past  Parrott  to  Sher 
rod. 

"  See  here,"  said  the  last.  "  Can't  we  get  together  ? 
You've  got  to  admit  that  we've  got  you  beaten." 

"If  you  think  the  delegates  you've  been  buying 
will  stick,  you're  mistaken,  Sherrod.  I've  sold  you 
more  than  fifty  myself." 

"  I  don't  believe  it,"  snapped  Sherrod,  and  added, 
inconsistently,  "  Who  are  they  ?  " 

"  That,"  answered  Murchell,  "  you'll  find  out  in  the 
morning." 

"  Quit  blurring  and  get  down  to  cases.     You  know 


350  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

damn  well  you  can't  beat  us  in  the  convention.  You 
aren't  trying  to.  You  started  all  this  racket  over  Dun- 
meade  just  to  work  up  a  sentiment  that  will  make 
it  harder  for  me  to  beat  Brent.  You're  so  anxious 
to  get  even,"  he  exclaimed  bitterly,  "  that  you  don't 
see  you're  in  danger  of  stirring  up  a  revolution. 
What  will  you  take  to  quit?  " 

"  The  revolution  has  started,  Sherrod.  And  you'll 
never  beat  Brent." 

"Won't  I?  We'll  attend  to  that  when  the  time 
comes." 

"  Because,"  Murchell  continued  calmly,  "  you  won't 
be  nominated."  He  turned  to  the  governor.  "  Par- 
rott,  how  much  have  you  paid  Sherrod  to  support  you 
for  senator  ?  " 

"  What's  that  got  to  do  with  this  convention?  "  de 
manded  Sherrod. 

"  I  just  want  to  show  Parrott  the  kind  of  men  he's 
working  with.  How  much,  Parrott  ?  " 

"  Nothing,"  lied  Parrott,  albeit  with  evident  un 
easiness. 

"  Then  you're  lucky,"  Murchell  commented.  "  Dan 
Hasland  paid  him  two  hundred  thousand  for  the  same 
promise." 

"  That's  a  lie,"  Sherrod  declared  hotly. 

"  Greene,"  commanded  Murchell,  "  call  Hasland 
in,  will  you?  He's  in  the  room  next  to  mine.  That 
is,  if  Parrott  and  Sherrod  think  it  necessary?"  He 
turned  inquiringly  toward  them. 

"  I  guess,"  Sherrod  growled,  "  Parrott  knows  I'll 
not  go  back  on  him." 

"Does  he?"  Murchell  inquired  dryly.  "  Look  at 
him!" 


THE  BIG  LIFE  351 

And,  indeed,  Parrott's  face  just  then  showed  any 
thing  but  implicit  confidence  in  the  good  faith  of  his 
leader. 

"  You  needn't  go,  Greene.  And,"  Murchell  added, 
"  I  may  announce  right  here  that  Hasland  will  suc 
ceed  me  as  senator." 

"  Doesn't  that  depend,"  sneered  Sherrod,  "  on  who 
controls  the  legislature?" 

"  We'll  control  it."  Murchell's  brevity  was  impres 
sive. 

Greene  could  have  hugged  himself  with  delight  as 
he  saw  Parrott  visibly  perturbed,  and  Sherrod  strug 
gling  to  repress  the  rising  passionate  hate  and  fear 
of  the  man  before  him.  Greene  had  been  a  gambler 
and  he  felt  a  profound  reverence  for  the  man  whose 
nerve  in  so  big  a  game  showed  no  tremor.  Even  he 
thought  Murchell's  air  of  contemptuous  confidence, 
of  weariness  as  though  he  had  a  distasteful  but  not 
at  all  difficult  task  to  perform,  assumed. 

A  long  pause  was  broken  by  Parrott  anxiously. 
"  Senator,  what  have  you  got  up  your  sleeve?  " 

"  Sherrod's  withdrawal." 

"  Who  is  going  to  make  me  withdraw  ?  "  Sherrod 
sneered  again. 

"  Didn't  Paine  give  you  my  message  ?  John 
Heath!" 

"Who,"  demanded  Parrott,  "is  John  Heath?" 

Murchell  pointed  to  Sherrod's  face,  which  had  sud 
denly  turned  pale.  "  He  is  a  gentleman  of  whom 
Sherrod  is  very  much  afraid.  Parrott,  did  you  ever 
hear  why  I  came  to  the  capital  last  March?  I  came 
because  I  heard  that  Sherrod  here  was  drunk  and 
threatening  to  throw  himself  into  the  river.  I  found 


352  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

out  why  —  he  had  embezzled  nine  hundred  thousand 
dollars  of  state  moneys.  We  fixed  the  matter  up 
temporarily."  He  paused,  straightened  up  in  his 
chair,  eyed  Sherrod  for  a  moment,  and  went  on 
quietly,  "  If  your  name  goes  before  the  convention, 
I  will  take  the  floor  and  tell  all  about  that  transac 
tion.  I  don't  think  you  will  be  nominated.  And,  if 
you  are,  I'm  quite  sure  you  won't  be  elected.  Do  you 
withdraw  ?  " 

Parrott  was  staring  open-mouthed  at  Sherrod,  who 
was  not  good  to  look  upon  just  then.  "My  God!" 
He  took  a  step  forward  and  caught  Sherrod  by  the 
shoulder,  roughly.  "Mark,  is  that  true?" 

"What  if  it  is?"  Sherrod  snarled.  "He's  only 
bluffing.  He  daren't  use  — " 

"  You  covered  that  ground  once  before,"  Murchell 
interrupted  evenly.  "  The  argument  had  some  force 
at  the  time,  because  I  had  plans  which  this  exposure 
would  disturb.  The  circumstances  are  different  now. 
I  want  to  do  just  two  things  —  nominate  John  Dun- 
meade,  and  put  you  out,  clear  out,  of  politics.  John 
Heath  will  accomplish  both  for  me,  I  think.  And 
for  anything  else  I  don't  care.  You  may  believe  this. 
Do  you  withdraw  ?  " 

"I  do  not!" 

"  Very  well."  Murchell  rose  to  indicate  that  the 
conference  was  at  an  end. 

"  Come  on,  Parrott."  Sherrod  wheeled  and 
marched  toward  the  door.  But  Parrott  did  not  fol 
low.  Instead,  he  dropped  weakly  into  a  chair,  his 
glance  shifting  uncertainly  from  Murchell  to  the  de 
parting  Sherrod  and  back  again. 

Sherrod's  hand  was  already  on  the  door-knob,  when 


THE  BIG  LIFE  353 

he  noticed  Parrott's  defection.  He  stopped,  looking 
back. 

"  Come  along,"  he  repeated  impatiently. 

"I  think,"  said  Parrott  slowly,  "I'll  stay  here. 
I've  had  one  gold  brick  too  many." 

"  What ! "  Sherrod  turned  sharply  and  strode 
over  to  the  vacillating  governor.  '  You  booby ! 
Scared  by  a  cheap  bluff  like  that!  Do  you  think  he 
means  it?  He  daren't  use  it.  Here,  I'll  prove  it  to 
you."  He  whirled  to  face  Murchell,  pointing. 
"  There  is  the  door,  Bill  Murchell,  and  on  the  other 
side  of  it  a  half  dozen  reporters.  Don't  wait  for  the 
convention.  Call  'em  in.  Make  good  your  bluff,  if 
you  dare !  " 

For  a  moment  the  senator  looked  intently  at  the 
ugly,  passionate  face. 

"  Call  them  in,  Greene,"  he  said  quietly. 

Greene  went  to  the  door,  opened  it  and  beckoned  to 
the  reporters.  They  filed  into  the  parlor  promptly. 
Murchell  turned  to  them. 

"  Gentlemen,  I  want  to  dictate  a  statement." 
Note-books  were  flashed  forth  and  pencils  poised. 
But  Murchell  did  not  continue,  and  the  reporters  did 
not  look  at  him.  Their  eyes  were  riveted  on  Sherrod, 
upon  whose  face  had  fallen  a  look  of  unbelieving 
wonderment.  The  wonderment  became  fear.  Beads 
of  sweat  stood  out  on  his  forehead.  He  shook  visi 
bly.  The  defiant  attitude  suddenly  dissolved. 

"  Perhaps,"  said  Murchell  grimly,  "  Mr.  Sherrod 
would  prefer  to  make  this  statement  himself." 

There  was  an  instant  of  painful  silence.  Sherrod's 
mouth  worked  as  though  he  were  trying  to  speak. 
But  no  sound  fell. 


354  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

Parrott  came  to  his  relief.  "  Gentlemen,"  he  said 
solemnly,  "  Mr.  Sherrod  has  withdrawn  his  candi 
dacy." 

"  In  favor  of  Dunmeade,"  supplemented  Greene. 

The  reporters  looked  inquiringly  at  Senator  Mur- 
chell. 

He  nodded.     "That's  the  statement." 

Without  a  single  backward  glance  he  went  out  of 
the  room.  Greene  and  the  reporters  followed  him, 
leaving  Sherrod  and  Parrott  alone  to  get  what  com 
fort  they  could  out  of  their  plight  and  to  settle  cer 
tain  accounts,  a  scene  upon  which  we  considerately 
draw  the  curtain. 

In  the  corridor  Murchell  was  accosted  again  by  one 
of  the  reporters. 

"  Senator,  I  know  when  to  stop  asking  questions. 
But  I'll  bet  a  hat  that  wasn't  what  you  expected  to 
say  when  you  called  us  in." 

Murchell  smiled  for  the  first  time  since  coming  to 
the  capital. 

"  Then  you  lose,  young  man/' 

A  man  around  whom  a  battle  had  been  fought 
leaned  on  a  rail  fence,  gazing  off  at  the  undulating 
line  where  the  azure  of  sky  curved  down  to  meet  the 
green  of  hills.  He  rendered  no  acknowledgment  of 
the  lengthening  shadows  other  than  to  pull  his  hat 
down  to  shield  his  eyes  from  the  westering  sun. 
Near  by  stood  a  tree,  but  he  had  avoided  its  shade  to 
bathe  in  the  sunlight,  as  though  its  life-giving  warmth 
might  rekindle  a  burnt-out  ardor.  He  looked  out 
upon  the  hillsides  wistfully,  as  when  a  man  about  to 
depart  on  a  long  journey  takes  leave  of  some  familiar 


THE  BIG  LIFE  355 

and  well-loved  scene.  He  had  been  there  most  of  the 
afternoon,  in  flight  from  the  kindly  but  obtrusive  in 
terest  of  his  neighbors. 

A  state  was  acclaiming  him,  and  he  was  not  up 
lifted.  He  had  read  the  news  of  the  morning  and 
knew  that  at  that  very  hour  several  hundred  of  his 
fellow-citizens  in  convention  assembled  were  naming 
him  to  a  high  honor,  and  he  took  no  joy  in  it.  For 
the  acclamation  was  but  the  schooled  chorus  of  a 
tractable  stage  mob.  And  the  victory  was  not  for  him, 
nor  for  the  principle  he  had  served,  but  for  a  man 
whom  he  had  condemned,  for  an  institution  he  believed 
to  be  wrong.  He  was  big  enough  —  or  small  enough, 
if  you  prefer  —  to  resent  being  catapulted  into  power 
by  the  strength  of  another's  arm,  and  he  was  honest 
enough  to  hate  the  means  he  knew  must  have  been 
used.  The  power  itself  did  not  dazzle  him,  in  the 
shadow  of  fear  and  self-distrust.  And  it  was  a  shat 
tering  of  his  notions  of  just  reward.  Out  of  a  weak 
ness,  a  recession,  a  yielding,  by  a  unique  accident  of 
circumstance  he  had  found  an  advancement  for  which 
in  rigorous  honesty  he  might  have  striven  a  lifetime 
vainly.  He  could  not  exult.  The  advancement  had 
come  too  late ;  the  fiery  eagerness  of  youth  was  gone. 
Those  who  have  known  defeat  often  have  no  zest  for 
battle.  From  the  new,  unwon  honor,  he  foresaw 
must  come  an  added  necessity  for  strife. 

He  longed  not  for  a  sword  but  for  peace,  the  peace 
of  the  hills,  of  the  growing  things,  of  the  common 
place  from  which  once  he  had  fled. 

A  sound,  strange  for  that  hour  and  place,  slowly 
pierced  his  abstraction.  He  raised  his  head,  startled, 
listening.  It  was  the  court-house  bell.  Another 


356  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

joined  in,  and  another,  until  all  the  bells  of  the  town 
were  ringing,  their  notes,  mellowed  by  the  distance, 
winging  across  the  hills  to  a  man  who  needed  their 
summons  more  than  he  knew.  He  started  hastily  to 
ward  the  town.  Only  once  before  within  his  mem 
ory  had  there  been  such  a  ringing  of  bells  in  New 
Chelsea,  when  fire  threatened  to  destroy  it  wholly. 

Then  he  halted  suddenly,  the  reason  for  the  bells 
dawning  upon  him.  The  iron  choral  was  for  him! 

He  walked  slowly  on. 

As  he  rounded  the  foot  of  the  knob,  he  heard  an 
other  sound  rising  to  mingle  with  the  clamor  of  the 
bells  —  cheering  voices.  He  had  a  strong  desire  to 
turn  back  and  flee  to  some  hiding-place  in  the  hills,  but 
he  forced  himself  to  march  forward. 

At  the  northernmost  edge  of  the  town  he  perceived 
a  rapidly  limping  figure.  It  was  Jeremy  Applegate, 
a  panting,  sweating  Jeremy,  who,  when  he  saw  John, 
waved  his  hat  and  broke  into  the  peculiar  elabora 
tion  of  hop-skip-and-jump  that,  with  the  peg-leg, 
passed  for  running. 

"  Heard  you  came  out  this  way,"  Jeremy  gasped, 
"  an'  I  wanted  to  be  first  to  tell  you."  He  halted 
sharply,  threw  back  head  and  shoulders,  his  hand 
went  up  in  a  military  salute. 

"Governor!" 

This  was  anticipating  the  fact,  but  Jeremy  in  his 
exultation  could  see  no  clouds  on  the  horizon 

"  The  convention's  over,  then  ?  " 

"  Nominated  by  acclamation  at  three  forty-five  this 
afternoon!  I  hain't  felt  so  good  since  Appomattox." 
John,  beholding  the  tears  shining  in  honest  Jeremy's 
eyes,  felt  the  moisture  rise  to  his  own.  His  heart 


THE  BIG  LIFE  357 

leaped  sharply;  it  was  something  to  receive,  even  if 
one  has  not  earned,  such  loyalty ! 

Down  Main  Street,  at  a  speed  never  before  ap 
proximated  in  their  staid  lives,  galloped  a  team  draw 
ing  a  double-seated  spring-wagon.  Jeremy  stumped 
out  into  the  middle  of  the  street,  waving  his  arms  to 
command  this  chariot  for  a  triumphal  entry.  But 
the  hail  was  not  needed.  The  astonished  steeds  were 
pulled  up  as  sharply  as  a  minute  earlier  they  had  been 
urged  to  speed.  From  the  wagon  descended  a  silent 
trio  whose  handclasp  eloquently  told  what  awkward 
lips  could  not  phrase. 

"  Druv  into  town  to  git  the  news  of  the  conven 
tion,"  'Ri  explained.  "  They  said  ye'd  gone  out  the 
pike,  so  we  druv  out  to  fetch  ye  in.  They're  wait- 
in'  for  ye,  consider'ble  excited." 

"  They've  found  out,"  said  Dan  Criswell  dryly, 
"  all  at  oncet  that  ye're  a  great  man." 

"  'Low  I  damned  the  Amurrican  people  a  mite  too 
soon,"  confessed  Sykes,  which  caused  Cranshawe  and 
Criswell  to  laugh. 

"  Git  in,"  commanded  'Ri.  "  Come  right  along, 
Jeremy." 

They  all  climbed  into  the  wagon,  John  with  lips 
compressed  as  if  he  faced  an  ordeal.  And  indeed  he 
did.  'Ri  was  quick  to  perceive  what  Jeremy  in  the 
hysteria  of  his  joy  had  overlooked.  His  great,  hairy 
hand  fell  on  John's  knee  in  a  tight  grip. 

"  I  want  to  say  something  while  I  got  the  chancet. 
I  guess  there's  more  to  this  than  appears  to  be.  But 
I  have  faith  in  ye,  John  Dunmeade.  I  have  faith  that 
ye'll  govern  this  state  in  the  fear  of  God  and  the  love 
of  your  fellowmen." 


358  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

"Whatever  ye  do,"  supplemented  Sykes,  "I'll  be 
lieve  that." 

"  An'  so  long  as  we  got  faith  in  ye,  ye  needn't  lose 
faith  in  yourself,"  Criswell  concluded. 

John  did  not  answer.  He  was  past  speaking  just 
then. 

So,  in  a  squeaky  spring-wagon,  amid  a  group  of 
men  whose  rugged  living,  homespun  wisdom  and 
simple  faith  had  not  suffered  from  the  blight  of  a 
golden  age,  John  Dunmeade,  by  the  irony  of  circum 
stance  raised  on  high  through  a  force  evolved  by 
and  for  that  age,  began  his  triumphal  progress. 
And  what  a  progress!  The  subtle  wine  of  it,  despite 
his  former  dejection,  stole  into  his  veins.  There  was 
no  city  wall  to  breach,  but  New  Chelsea  would  cheer 
fully  have  supplied  the  omission,  had  it  lain  in  its 
power. 

Main  Street  was  lined  with  happy  crowds,  called 
out  by  the  bells,  and  to  number  them,  if  we  may  be 
lieve  the  Globe,  would  have  been  to  take  a  census  of 
the  town.  Unemotional  men  for  once  letting  them 
selves  go  to  cheer  wildly  one  toward  whom  many  of 
them  had  claimed  the  neighbor's  privilege  of  sneering 
criticism  and  upon  whom  they  now  looked  as  at  a 
stranger  with  sudden  new  respect;  women  with  hand 
kerchiefs  aflutter;  small  boys  as  feverishly  exultant 
as  when  the  New  Chelsea  nine  shut  out  the  Plumville 
"  leaguers."  They  flocked  around  the  chariot  —  at 
imminent  risk  to  toes  from  the  wheels  —  eager  to 
shake  hands  with  their  pale,  shaken  neighbor,  fell  in 
behind  the  wagon,  debouched  into  the  Dunmeades' 
front  yard,  sadly  to  the  impairment  of  the  lawn  that 


THE  BIG  LIFE  359 

was  Miss  Roberta's  pride.  There  they  stood  and 
cheered  again  and  again,  even  after  he  had  bowed  his 
thanks  and  disappeared  within  the  house.  Then  they 
departed  to  prepare  for  the  real  celebration. 

Within  took  place  another  wonder,  Judge  Dun- 
meade  almost  forgetting  the  judicial  dignity,  slapping 
John  on  the  back  and  exclaiming,  "  My  son,  this  is 
a  happy  hour.  I  always  knew  you  would  make  your 
mark." 

At  which  Miss  Roberta  sniffed.  But  when  she 
tried  to  convey  her  felicitations,  her  tongue  refused 
the  unaccustomed  office  and  she  broke  away  to  pre 
pare  a  supper  that  should  do  justice  to  the  occasion. 

"  I  wish,"  she  cried  to  herself,  "  I'd  learned  to  say 
nice  things  when  I  was  young!  I'm  only  an  old  cat 
with  claws  to  scratch." 

That  evening  Benton  County  made  holiday. 

Long  before  darkness  had  fallen  a  hundred  and 
more  boys  were  dashing  madly  about,  waving  torches 
and  redfire  under  the  noses  of  the  incoming  farmers' 
teams.  A  huge  bonfire  was  lighted  in  the  Square,  a 
pyramid  of  flame  that  rose  to  the  level  of  the  tree- 
tops.  Around  it  gathered  those  who  had  not  gone 
to  the  station  to  meet  the  Plumville  "  special." 
Through  the  shifting,  excited  crowd  Grocer  Bellamy 
and  Cobbler  Marks  wended  a  devious  way,  arm  in 
arm,  the  breach  of  five  years'  standing  healed  —  the 
former  narrating  with  infinite  circumstantiality  to  all 
who  would  listen  how  he  had  given  Johnny  Dun- 
meade  his  first  case  and  what  had  been  said  by  each 
party  to  that  historic  transaction  —  and  Jeremy  Ap- 
plegate  stumped  jubilantly  about,  dispensing  good 


360  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

cigars  with  all  the  prodigality  of  campaign  time. 
Watches  were  frequently  consulted;  the  special  was 
due  at  a  quarter  to  eight. 

Prompt  on  the  hour  the  shriek  of  the  locomotive 
announced  the  arrival  of  the  train.  There  was  an 
expectant  pause,  then  a  long  roll  of  snare  drums,  and 
out  upon  the  summer  night  floated  the  martial  strains 
of  Marching  Through  Georgia.  The  music  grew 
louder,  clearer.  Around  the  corner  into  Main  Street 
wheeled  the  drum-major,  magnificent  in  bearskin  hat, 
and  the  red  jackets  of  the  Plumville  Brass  Band.  The 
baton  was  raised  in  imperious  gesture,  and  the  air 
changed  to  one  that  called  forth  a  roar  of  delight, 
When  Johnny  Comes  Marching  Home!  No  one 
remembered  another  time  when  that  song  had  been 
played. 

Down  Main  Street  they  came,  the  wizard  of  the 
baton  outdoing  himself,  so  that  to  this  day  New  Chel 
sea  youth,  speaking  of  a  lost  art,  recall  with  awe 
the  miracles  performed  that  night.  The  big  bass 
horns  brazenly  emphasized  the  declaration  that  they 
would  "  all  —  get  —  blind  —  drunk  —  when  Johnny 
came  marching  home  " ;  a  promise,  be  it  regretfully 
recorded,  which  several  theretofore  respectable  citi 
zens  of  New  Chelsea  generously  kept  ere  the  night 
had  waned.  After  them  came  the  Plumville  Fourth 
Ward  Marching  Club,  twirling  red,  white  and  blue 
umbrellas  and  smoking  unanimously,  their  souls  no 
whit  expanded.  They  had  marched  and  voted  and 
vociferated  against  John  Dunmeade.  Now,  at  the 
command  of  their  chieftain,  they  marched  for  him; 
theirs  not  to  reason  why.  Followed  a  nondescript 
regiment  of  farmers  and  townsmen,  politicians  and 


THE  BIG  LIFE  361 

citizens,  joyfully  marching  in  honor  of  the  man  whom 
a  few  weeks  before  they  had  rejected. 

Without  a  quiver  Miss  Roberta  witnessed  the  total 
destruction  of  her  velvety  lawn  as  they  gathered 
around  the  house,  a  close-packed  throng  that  reached 
across  the  street  and  into  the  Square.  Volley  after 
volley  of  cheers  rose.  But  when  John  Dunmeade  ap 
peared  on  the  porch  it  was  clear  that  all  previous 
demonstrations  had  been  merely  a  preliminary  testing 
of  vocal  powers.  Before  the  prolonged  roar  had  sub 
sided  a  young  woman  under  a  tree  at  the  edge  of  the 
crowd  discovered  unashamed  tears  coursing  down  he* 
cheeks. 

John  made  a  speech;  not  much  of  a  speech,  it  is 
true,  but  his  audience  was  not  hypercritical.  It  lasted 
just  three  minutes.  And  then,  since  so  memorable 
an  occasion  could  not  be  thus  summarily  concluded, 
Judge  Dunmeade  was  called  upon  for  "  a  few  words." 
His  speech,  beginning,  "  Half  a  century  ago  the  im 
mortal  Webster  stood  in  yonder  Square,"  was  ac 
counted  —  for  the  last  time  we  cite  the  Globe  —  a 
classic  of  old-school  oratory.  The  judge  made  it  evi 
dent  that  he  attributed  his  son's  rise  to  those  sound 
principles  of  Republicanism  early  instilled  in  his  heart 
and  mind  by  a  fond  father.  Perhaps  the  most  en 
thusiastically  acclaimed  period  was  that  in  which  he 
compared  those  two  great  statesmen,  Daniel  Web 
ster  and  William  Murchell,  to  the  disadvantage  of 
neither.  He  spoke  for  nearly  an  hour,  but  the  crowd 
listened  patiently,  even  applauded  his  sentiments  so 
generously  that  a  stranger  might  have  been  hard  put 
to  decide  whether  father  or  son  were  the  hero  of  the 
hour. 


362  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

When  the  sonorous  peroration  was  brought  to  a 
close,  the  band  began  to  play  America.  For  a  little 
a  deep  hush  fell.  Then  some  one  —  later  identified 
as  a  one-legged,  hysterically  happy  old  soldier  —  be 
gan  to  sing,  in  a  cracked,  quavering  voice.  Some 
thing  that  passed  beyond  mere  jubilation  stirred. 
With  one  accord  the  crowd  lifted  up  its  voice  and 
sang: 

"  My  country,  'tis  of  thee.     .     .     ." 

The  solemn,  stately  measures  died  away.  A  last 
cheer  was  given,  and  the  famous  celebration  passed 
into  history. 

The  band  moved  off,  trumpeting  the  latest  popular 
air  and  followed  by  the  Plumville  celebrants.  The 
crowd  dispersed,  enthusiasm  spent.  The  bonfire 
burned  down,  only  a  few  cooling  embers  remained. 
Over  the  town  settled  its  accustomed  nocturnal  quiet. 

At  his  window  John  Dunmeade  looked  with 
troubled  eyes  up  into  the  silent,  starry  night.  It  was 
ungenerous  perhaps,  but  he  could  not  help  thinking 
of  the  lean  years  of  defeat  and  discouragement.  And 
he  wondered;  was  the  hymn  still  ringing  in  his  ears 
the  voice  of  an  abiding  passion  —  or  hysteria? 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

SILENCED 

/"T"*HE  next  day  John's  office  was  besieged  by  a  stream 
•*•  of  neighbors,  calling  with  a  new-born  diffidence 
to  say  in  person  what  they  had  said  in  mass  the  even 
ing  before.  A  few,  of  course,  generously  offered  to 
advise  him  as  to  the  conduct  of  his  future  office.  No 
one  doubted  that  he  would  receive  the  usual  enormous 
Republican  majority. 

It  was  not  until  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  that 
Haig  found  him  alone. 

"  Well,  Cato,"  he  grinned,  "  they  tell  me  they're  a 
little  exercised  down  Carthage  way." 

John  smiled  faintly.  "  Not  much,  I  suspect.  I've 
been  thinking  of  Cato.  I'm  not  even  a  relative. 
Poor  Jerry  Brent !  " 

"  Great  guns!  You  can  think  of  him?  Guess  you 
haven't  read  his  interview." 

"  Yes,  I  have." 

They  alluded  to  Brent's  comment  on  the  Republican 
convention,  in  which  he  made  numerous  sarcastic  ref 
erences  to  the  "  lofty-souled  uplifter  who  had  sold  out 
to  the  gang  for  an  office." 

"  It's  the  cry  of  a  bitterly  disappointed  man. 
Brent's  chance  of  a  lifetime  is  gone.  He  knows  he 
can't  beat  you  and  he's  sore.  I  wouldn't  mind  it." 

"  I  don't.  I'm  sorry  for  him.  He  could  have 
beaten  Sherrod,  I  really  believe." 

363 


364  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

"Do  you  hear  him?"  Haig  indignantly  apostro 
phized  the  engraving  of  Daniel  Webster.  "  I  ex 
pected  to  find  him  strutting  on  air  after  last  night. 
And  here  he  is,  feeling  sorry  for  a  cheap,  jealous 
demagogue  the  state's  well  saved  from.  Can't  you 
feel  any  elation?"  he  transferred  his  remarks  to 
John.  "  It  isn't  often  the  people  get  up  on  their 
hind  legs  to  yell  for  a  man  the  way  they  did  for  you 
last  night." 

"  I'm  humanly  vain,  I  suppose."  John  shrugged 
his  shoulders. 

"  I'm  glad  to  hear,"  Haig  laughed,  "  it's  no  worse 
than  that.  I've  sometimes  thought  you  so  damnably 
vain  that  you  wouldn't  let  your  little  stunt  of  saving  the 
nation  be  performed  except  by  some  way  bearing  your 
own  private  brand." 

"  I  suppose  that's  true,"  said  John,  with  surprising 
meekness. 

"  No,  it  isn't,"  Haig  growled  quickly.  "  I  was 
talking  through  my  hat.  Look  here,  old  man!  I 
think  I  understand  how  you're  feeling  over  this. 
You're  not  very  happy  because  you  think  it  isn't  your 
victory,  that  you  have  it  only  by  blackmailing  a  man 
you  dislike — " 

"  I  don't  dislike  Murchell  —  personally." 

"At  least,  you  don't  approve  of  him  politically. 
Down  at  the  bottom  of  your  heart  you're  a  little 
peevish  because  a  bit  of  tricking  has  got  what  your 
theory  of  fighting  couldn't  win.  And  you  feel  that 
in  sacrificing,  for  merely  personal  considerations,  what 
you  conceive  to  be  a  duty  to  the  general  scheme  of 
things,  you  have  been  weak.  Well,  you're  right. 
You  have  been  weak.  And  I'm  glad  —  I'm  durned 


SILENCED  365 

glad  —  of  it.  It  will  help  you  to  understand  that  no 
cold,  abstract  ideal  of  duty  that  ignores  the  primitive 
selfish  instincts  in  men  can  attract,  much  less  impel, 
them.  The  truly  good  inspires  no  sympathy.  The 
point  of  this  matter  is,  out  of  your  weakness  has  come 
nothing  but  good.  The  bank  will  eventually  become ; 
a  sound  institution,  and  you  —  I  suppose  you'll  admit 
that  you'll  make  a  better  governor  than  Sherrod  or 
Brent?" 

"  I  hope  so.  But  that  has  come  about  only  through 
an  accident  over  which  I  have  had  no  control." 

"  Perhaps.  But  my  idea  of  a  useful  man  is  one 
who  knows  how  and  is  willing  to  take  advantage  of  just 
such  accidents.  And  I'm  not  sure  it  has  been  an  ac 
cident.  You've  illustrated  what  I  believe  to  be  a 
law  of  life.  Progress  always  moves  along  the  line 
of  least  resistance.  Even  the  pioneer  works  through 
the  gaps  and  along  the  river  beds,  not  over  the  moun 
tains.  And  the  most  complicated  and  difficult  thing" 
in  life  is  to  steer  a  simple,  straightforward  course, 
because  human  motives  are  always  so  complex.  Re 
member  that. 

"  And  remember  another  thing,"  he  continued. 
"  Three  weeks  ago  this  county  cast  you  aside.  Now 
it  is  yelling  its  fool  head  off  for  you.  The  American 
people  worship  the  great  god,  Success.  Keep  success-  ' 
ful.  You've  been  promoted  from  a  lofty-souled  up- 
lifter  to  a  practical  politician  for  the  glory  of  God. 
Accept  the  promotion."  He  was  relieved  to  note  that 
John  could  laugh.  "  And  here,"  he  grinned,  "  endeth 
the  reading  of  my  last  lesson.  It's  one  thing  to  share 
my  vast  store  of  wisdom  with  John  Dunmeade,  the 
visionary  reformer,  and  quite  another  to  lecture  the 


366  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

next  governor.  Funny  thing  what  a  difference  a 
prospective  office  makes  in  one's  attitude  toward  a 
man." 

John  smiled  absently.  He  was  thinking,  "  It  is  an 
easy  road  to  travel." 

"  Haig,"  he  said  abruptly,  "  I  suppose  I'm  an  ob 
stinate  prig.  But,  honestly,  I'd  give  all  I  hope  to 
possess  to  be  able  to  answer  you.  If  only  they'd  re- 
nominated  me  as  district  attorney!  I'd  earned  that. 
Or  if  I  could  believe  that  the  present  hullabaloo  were 
not  artificially  manufactured  — " 

He  did  not  pursue  the  thought,  aloud  at  least. 

"  It  takes  genius  to  make  a  state  pull  itself  up  by 
the  bootstraps." 

"  What  a  pity  the  genius  that  can  so  mold  and  con 
trol  public  sentiment  can't  be  directed  to  wholesome 
ends!" 

"  Are  you  sure  it  can't  ?  I'm  not,  and  I  have  no 
reason  to  love  Murchell.  Have  you  seen  him  yet? 
He  got  back  this  morning." 

And  even  while  Haig  spoke,  footsteps  sounded  in 
the  outer  office  and  there  was  a  knock.  John 
opened  the  door  to  admit  —  Murchell. 

"Good  afternoon!"  was  the  latter's  unsmiling 
greeting. 

"  Won't  you  come  in  and  sit  down  ?  " 

Murchell  accepted  the  invitation.  There  was  a 
moment  of  uncertainty.  Then  Haig  reached  for  his 
hat  and  rose  to  leave. 

'l  You  needn't  go  on  my  account,"  Murchell  an 
swered  the  move.  "  In  fact,  I'd  like  you  to  stay." 

Haig  resumed  his  seat.  He  and  John  kept  the 
silence  of  surprise. 


SILENCED  367 

But  the  senator  recognized  no  occasion  for  con 
straint. 

"  I  see,"  he  said,  glancing  around,  "  you  keep  the 
old  office  just  the  same.  I  remember  when  your 
grandfather  built  it." 

"  Yes,"  John  replied  courteously;  "  though  Aunt  Ro 
berta  thinks  it  would  be  the  better  for  a  general  over 
hauling.  She  has  a  mania  for  cleanliness." 

"Of  more  sorts  than  one,"  Murchell  smiled  queerly. 
"  I've  noticed  that.  Your  Aunt  Roberta  is  a  fine 
Woman.  You  come  of  a  good  stock  —  your  grand 
father  was  a  mighty  smart  man.  He  used  to  say  — " 

"  That  there's  no  man  so  good  and  none  so  bad 
that  he  can't  be  made  useful?  " 

"  Yes.  And  also,  '  The  noblest  sacrifice,  because 
the  hardest,  is  that  of  the  sincere  man  who  gives  up 
part  of  his  ideal  to  secure  a  little  of  it/  ' 

"  My  grandfather,"  John  remarked  dryly,  "  seems 
to  have  been  given  to  high-sounding  platitudes." 

"  He  was  a  man  who  accomplished  things." 

"  And  I  am  not.     Is  that  your  point?  " 

"  Have  you  the  right  to  be  bitter?  "  Murchell  asked 
quietly.  "  When  a  man  still  young  has  in  six  years 
so  impressed  himself  and  his  ideals  on  seven  million 
people  that  they  demand  him  for  governor,  and  de 
mand  with  an  enthusiasm  I  have  rarely  seen  — " 

"  Manufactured  by  you!  " 

"  Stimulated,"  Murchell  corrected  briefly,  and  con- 
tined,  " — and  through  him  are  beginning  to  realize, 
even  vaguely,  their  political  responsibility,  he  has 
something  to  his  credit,  I  think.  A  good  many  men 
who  think  well  of  themselves  reach  old  age  without 
accomplishing  so  much." 


368  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

"  Do  you  mean,"  John  exclaimed,  incredulous,  "  that 
/  have  done  that  ?  " 

"  Do  you  know  any  one  else  whom  the  description 
fits?"  Murchell  asked.  "I  don't  mean  that  the  mil 
lennium  is  at  hand.  Perfection  isn't  attained  by  one 
sharp,  impetuous  dash  up  the  hill.  It  is  a  slow,  grad 
ual  climb,  with  many  halts  and  detours  and  truces,  even 
retreats.  It's  a  good  thing  it's  so.  If  progress  came 
simply  and  quickly,  it  wouldn't  be  worth  having." 

"  Exactly  what  I  have  been  telling  him,"  Haig  in 
terpolated  eagerly. 

"  Then  it  must  be  true."  There  was  a  flash  of 
Murchell's  old  grim  self.  "  I  wish  there  were  some 
other  way." 

For  a  few  moments  he  seemed  to  forget  the  others' 
presence,  as  he  gazed  out  through  the  window  toward 
the  sleepy  Square  with  its  dingy  court-house,  its  list 
lessly  swaying  trees,  its  out-of-date  cannon  and  bril 
liant  flag,  a  scene  in  nowise  changed  since  the  day; 
when  he  had  come  —  with  what  fateful  miscalcula 
tion  !  —  to  press  an  ardent  young  man  into  his  service. 
John,  too,  remembered  that  former  time  and  thought 
wonderingly,  with  a  sudden  new  hope,  on  the  subtle, 
indefinable  change  he  felt,  rather  than  saw,  in  the  old 
man. 

They  waited  until  Murchell  began  again. 

"  I  speak  now  as  a  politician,  not  as  a  philosopher. 
There  are  two  ways  of  serving  a  reform.  One  is  as 
the  preacher,  the  dreamer.  He  is  useful,  because  he 
points  out  the  way  we  shall  go.  The  other  is  as  the 
constructive  leader,  the  man  who  takes  the  forces  he 
finds  ready  to  hand  and  uses  their  power  to  change 


SILENCED  369 

conditions  as  the  people  are  prepared  for  change.  And 
he  is  necessary,  because  new  systems  are  built  on  the 
old  and  the  people  are  like  children  —  they  require 
coaxing  and  the  encouragement  of  success.  The 
preacher  has  the  easier  task;  he  has  only  to  contend 
with  ignorance  and  discouragement.  The  builder 
must  suffer  misunderstanding  and  compromise  —  and 
the  temptation  of  power.  Not  many  men  withstand 
that."  Infinite  sadness  spoke. 

"  You,"  he  turned  to  John,  "  have  got  to  decide  now 
which  you  will  be.  You  are  going  to  hold  a  great 
office.  Public  office  —  I  think  you've  found  this  out 
already  —  isn't  as  simple  as  it  seems  to  those  who 
haven't  held  it.  The  man  who  would  fill  it  with  un 
failing  wisdom  and  justice,  with  exact  honesty  —  and 
still  be  useful  —  must  be  as  stern  and  unyielding  as  the 
forces  of  nature,  and  as  strong." 

"  And  I  am  not  that."  But  the  bitterness  was  lack 
ing  now. 

"  No  man  is,"  Murchell  said  gently.  "  I've  got 
you  the  nomination  through  methods  you  won't  con 
sider  clean.  I've  made  promises  you  won't  like,  but 
that  you  must  keep,  or  we'll  both  be  destroyed  po 
litically." 

Without  excusing  or  concealing  a  single  manceuver, 
he  narrated  the  story  of  the  short  campaign  and  the 
convention. 

"  My  motives  in  doing  this  aren't  important,"  he 
concluded.  '  You  perhaps  aren't  justified  in  crediting 
me  with  worthy  ones.  But  you  can  believe  this  — 
for  what  you  desire  I  wish  nothing  but  success.  And 
I  want  to  help  you.  What  knowledge  and  influence 


370  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

I  have  are  yours,  if  you  will  accept  and  use  them.  A 
day  may  come  when  compromise  and  intrigue  won't 
be  necessary." 

The  shuffling  of  feet  in  the  outer  room  gave  John 
the  excuse  to  leave.  He  was  heard  dismissing  the  vis 
itor.  But  many  minutes  flew  by  before  he  returned. 

It  was  little  enough  time  for  what  he  had  to  decide. 

A  marvel  had  been  wrought.  To  Murchell  had 
been  given  a  new  purpose.  But  Murchell,  the  work 
man,  could  never  change;  he  was  too  old.  His  lack 
of  respect  for  the  people  and  popular  impulse,  the 
habit  of  judging  means  by  the  end,  fixed  through  a 
lifetime,  would  persist.  His  was  not  the  crusader's 
spirit,  white  hot,  impatient  of  compromise,  caring  less 
for  achievement  than  that  his  cause  be  kept  unsullied. 
And  he  was  the  stronger  man,  his  the  greater  genius. 
The  instinct  for  mastery  must  be  served.  Who  joined 
him  did  so  as  a  follower,  to  be  dominated  by  the  lead 
er's  ideal  and  philosophy. 

"  If  only  I  could  answer  him!  "  John  cried  within 
himself. 

But  his  experience,  silencing  inspiration,  had  not 
taught  him  that  answer. 

There  was  but  one  way  for  him  to  decide.  The 
trap  of  circumstance,  sprung  by  his  own  weakness,  held 
him  fast.  Having  accepted  advancement  at  the  hands 
of  that  which  he  believed  to  be  wrong,  he  might  no 
longer  openly  fight  against  it.  As  an  enemy  to  the 
machine,  whose  beneficiary  he  had  become,  he  would 
be  discredited,  unconvincing.  His  only  hope  for  use 
fulness  lay  in  the  proffered  alliance,  in  Murchell's  new 
purpose. 


SILENCED  371 

For  a  little  Haig  sat  in  the  unwonted  silence  of  em 
barrassment.  Then  he  said  abruptly : 

"  Senator  Murchell,  I'd  like  to  apologize,  if  you  will 
let  me." 

"  For  telling  the  truth  ?     It  isn't  necessary." 

"  No,  for  believing  my  impertinent,  theatric  inter 
vention  responsible  for  your  action." 

"  You  don't  believe  that  now?  " 

"  I  do  not.  And  — "  Haig  hesitated  in  the  mascu 
line  awkwardness  before  sentiment.  "  And  I  know 
Dunmeade  can  trust  your  offer." 

"  It  is  more  important  that  he  keep  faith  in  himself. 
He  can  trust  me.  I  —  There  are  enough  George 
Wrcnns  to  remember." 

Haig  looked  swiftly  away,  having  glimpsed  in  what 
coin  payment  for  the  Wrenns  and  that  for  which  they 
stood  was  being  made.  He  wished  that  he  had  with 
held  his  tale  of  the  weakling.  And  he  wondered  that 
a  golden  age  should  bring  forth  one  man  with  whom 
abstract  right  was  a  passion  and  another  with  the 
greatness  of  soul  to  begin  in  age  to  undo  what  a  life 
time  had  worked,  and  at  the  force  that  had  brought 
these  two  together. 

Soon  John  returned.  He  held  out  his  hand  to  Wil 
liam  Murchell. 

"  I  haven't  the  right  to  refuse." 

He  was  no  longer  a  Voice.  He  had  passed  from  the 
wilderness  to  the  haunts  of  men,  where  action,  not 
preachments  —  achievements,  not  prophecy  —  are  the 
currency  of  life. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

THE    PRICE 

WAS  he  weak,  the  theory  of  life  and  growth  he 
accepted  wrong?  To  this  day  John  Dunmeade 
often  asks  the  question.  Sometimes  he  doubts.  But 
then,  looking  back  over  what  has  been  done  and  fore 
seeing  a  fuller  triumph,  he  puts  away  the  question. 
For  the  compact,  that  day  struck,  held.  Under  Mur- 
chell's  tutelage  he  learned  to  compromise,  to  substi 
tute  craft  and  intrigue  for  the  honorable,  open  methods 
he  loved.  But  he  has  never  lost  sight  of  his  pur 
pose  and,  though  there  have  been  halts  and  detours 
and  even  retreats,  the  general  direction  has  been  for 
ward.  When  his  time  came  William  Murchell  died, 
not  greatly  honored  by  a  cynical  world  that  looked 
•for  no  good  thing  from  Nazareth,  but  content  in  the 
belief  that  the  forces  by  him  set  in  motion  would  in 
the  end  undo  his  evil.  As  for  Dunmeade,  he  is  still  a 
compromiser,  but  still  fighting,  an  able  lieutenant  in  a 
new  movement  whose  end  is  not  yet.  He  is  glad  to 
believe  that  upon  his  foundation  other  men  shall  be 
able  to  build  with  clean  hands. 

But  he  draws  no  moral  from  his  story. 

And  he  found  one  source  of  happiness  over  which 
no  cloud  has  hovered. 

When  Murchell  and  Haig  left  him  that  afternoon, 
to  escape  kindly  intruders  he  went  out  into  the  coun- 

372 


THE  PRICE  373- 

try.  He  took  a  circuitous  route  that  avoided  Main 
Street  and  brought  him  to  the  bridge  at  the  conflu 
ence.  He  crossed  it  and  tramped  slowly  along  the 
dusty  road,  flanked  by  a  riot  of  ragweed,  wild  rose 
and  tufts  of  wind-sown  grain,  between  cool,  damp 
wood-lots  and  acres  of  clean  young  corn  and  oat- fields 
that  rippled  and  tossed  under  the  breeze.  It  was  the 
time  of  day  when  the  farm  bells  were  calling  the  labor 
ers  to  supper.  Their  minor  resonance  seemed  to  him 
the  echo  of  the  jubilant  clamor  of  the  day  before.  He 
thrilled,  as  he  had  not  on  that  yesterday. 

At  first  he  walked  slowly,  sluggishly.  But  grad 
ually  his  step  lengthened,  quickened,  until  he  was 
striding  along  with  a  springiness  he  had  not  known 
for  years,  his  head  uplifted  as  though,  the  problem 
answered,  a  burden  had  rolled  from  his  shoulders. 
He  drank  in  the  beauty  around  him,  an  inspiriting 
draught,  and  pondered  —  not  eagerly  as  at  another 
time,  but  steadily  and  with  mounting  courage  —  the 
task  ahead  of  him.  He  heard  again  the  thunder  of 
his  neighbors'  cheers  and,  listening,  he  caught  a  note 
that  had  eluded  him  the  night  before  but  that  now 
rebucklered  his  faith.  He  thought  of  the  power  of 
Murchell,  pieced  together  by  a  lifetime  of  selfish  effort 
and  rising  out  of  the  ashes  of  defeat  stronger  than 
ever  —  to  what  end,  if  not  for  this  hour?  And  who 
was  he,  to  examine  carpingly  and  throw  aside  the 
weapons  the  life-force  placed  in  his  hand?  As  the 
prophet  blessed  the  murderous  sword  of  the  Israelites, 
so  might  an  unclean  instrument  be  consecrated  by  its 
ultimate  service.  As  the  earth  brought  forth  her  fruits 
abundantly,  so  might  the  earthy  passions  and  desires 
af  men  be  made  to  yield  a  glorious  harvest. 


374  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

Once  he  halted,  asking  himself  sharply,  "  Have  I 
gone  down  hill?  I  said  it  was  an  easy  road  to  travel." 

Then  he  left  the  doubt  behind  him.  The  die  was 
cast.  He  accepted  the  service  assigned  him.  He 
thought  he  discerned  a  purpose  higher  than  his  own. 
The  power  against  which  he  had  fought  existed,  would 
exist  until  the  people  whose  condition  had  called  it  into 
being  outgrew  it.  Surely  better  that  it  serve,  how 
ever  unwillingly,  than  that  it  continue  to  thwart,  the 
higher  purpose ! 

He  walked  for  two  miles  or  more  and  then,  turning, 
went  swiftly  homeward. 

But  as  he  skirted  the  foot  of  the  knob,  he  was 
brought  to  an  abrupt  halt.  For  there,  tethered  to  a 
bush  stood  a  horse  that  he  recognized  —  Crusader, 
less  fiery  than  of  yore,  but  sleek  as  ever  and  with 
many  a  fast  gallop  left  in  his  sturdy  muscles. 

For  a  moment  John  looked,  hesitant,  at  the  path  up 
which  she  doubtless  had  climbed.  Then  in  sudden 
resolution  he  went  up. 

She  was  standing  by  the  big  boulder,  looking  away 
at  the  hills  that  rose,  rank  upon  rank,  until  the  last, 
become  mountains,  were  lost  in  the  blue  haze.  But 
he  saw  not  the  hills,  only  her,  the  strong,  supple  figure 
limned  against  the  sky,  her  hair  red-gold  under  the 
slanting  sunshine.  He  caught  his  breath  at  sight  of 
her,  sense  of  all  else  obliterated. 

She  seemed  to  feel  his  nearness,  and  turned.  For 
an  instant,  without  greeting,  they  looked  at  each  other, 
these  two  whose  romance  was  almost  as  old  as  life 
itself.  But  to  them  it  was  unique,  all  their  own.  To 
him  the  love  had  been  one  ardor  that  had  not  burned 
out  in  the  years  of  failure.  To  her  it  had  been  a 


THE  PRICE  375 

growing  thing  that  could  not  be  killed,  reaching  out 
its  tendrils  until  it  possessed  her  wholly,  casting  out 
vanity  and  fear,  making  her  his  through  weakness  and 
strength,  in  victory  and  defeat.  Shaken,  they  looked 
away  quickly;  on  the  face  of  each  had  been  written 
what  the  other  most  desired  to  see. 

She  waited  for  him  to  speak.  But  the  tongue  that 
had  held  thousands  silent  under  its  spell  stubbornly 
refused  to  be  eloquent  at  this  supreme  moment. 

"  I  saw  Crusader,"  he  said  lamely,  "  and  I  came 
up." 

"  Obviously !  "  She  laughed  nervously.  "  I  came 
up  here  because  it  is  the  highest  point  in  the  county 
—  but,  of  course,  you  know  that  —  and  you  can  see 
so  far.  It  gives  one  a  faint  idea  of  the  immensity  of 
things  and  of  one's  own  insignificance.  It  is  very 
good  for  the  soul,  I  assure  you.  I  needed  it,  feeling 
so  important  because  I  had  been  working — " 

"Working!" 

"Does  the  notion  seem  so  absurd?"  She  tossed 
her  head  girlishly.  "/  think  it  fine.  I  didn't  know 
time  could  pass  so  quickly  and  happily.  Only  my 
task  was  very  simple  and  unimportant,  I  fear,  helping 
father  straighten  out  some  of  his  papers.  This  morn 
ing,  you  know,  he  turned  the  bank  over  to  the  new 
cashier,  and  to-morrow  he  becomes  manager  of  the 
coal  company.  Our  affairs  are  all  settled.  The  Ridge 
house  is  sold  and  next  week  we  move  into  the  old 
one.  We  are  to  live  here  always.  It  seems  like  com 
ing  home. 

"  See !  "  she  went  on  breathlessly,  as  though  to  hold 
back  the  flood  of  words  that  she  knew  was  gathering 
on  his  lips.  She  held  up  a  hand,  two  pink  finger- 


3;6  HIS  RISE  TO  POWER 

tips  of  which  were  sadly  ink-stained.  "  My  badge  of 
honor!  It  isn't  very  tidy,  is  it?  But  then  I  had  to 
hurry  into  my  riding  things.  We  workers  haven't 
time  to  make  elaborate  toilets  —  You  aren't  listen- 
ing!" 

"Katherine!" 

And  she  who,  unasked,  had  twice  dared  to  avow 
her  love  now  trembled  violently  before  that  of  which 
she  was  not  afraid.  While  she  was  looking  at  the 
hills,  before  he  came,  she  had  been  doubting  —  a  last 
faint  doubt  raised  by  words  of  his  own.  But  his  com 
ing  had  banished  that.  She  held  her  eyes  bravely  to 
his. 

"  That  Sunday  I  said  you  couldn't  love  a  man  who 
had  been  weak  —  even  for  your  sake.  It  isn't  true,  is 
it  ?  "  His  voice  was  hoarse  with  anxiety. 

"  Are  you  sure  you  want  me,  in  spite  — " 

"  In  spite  of  everything,  I  want  you  above  all  things 
else." 

"Ah!  no.  It  can't  —  it  mustn't  —  be  that.  You 
are  not  your  own.  And  I  can  be  content  with  much 
less  than  first  place — " 

He  would  have  taken  her  in  his  arms,  but  she  held 
him  off,  even  while  quivering  with  the  longing  to  be 
caught,  as  once  before  he  had  held  her,  in  a  rough, 
close  embrace. 

"  Are  you  sure  I'd  not  be  a  drag,  a  continual  re 
minder  of  something  you'd  rather  forget?  And  that 
I  could  help  you?  I  —  I'd  have  to  help — " 

"  Once  I  wanted  you  —  now  I  need  you.  I  have 
just  been  asking,  have  I  gone  down  hill?  I  do 
not  know.  But  if  I  have,  I  need  you  who  can'  under 
stand  — " 


THE  PRICE  377 

Then  she  knew  of  a  certainty  that  the  doubt  was 
gone  for  ever.  With  love's  keen  perception  she  saw 
that  already  from  him  had  gone  a  little  of  that  fine 
beauty  and  courage  of  manhood  which  had  been  be 
fore  her  during  the  years  of  separation,  but  which  the 
dreamer  must  lose  to  become  a  "  practical  man."  But 
her  love  rose  strongest  when  the  need  of  it  was  great 
est.  In  quick  desire  to  shield  his  loss  from  him  she 
stretched  forth  her  hands  to  meet  his. 

"  Ah !  I  will  always  understand.  I  do  not  believe 
you  have  gone  down.  But  —  if  you  have  —  let  us  go 
back  up  hill  —  together !  " 

And  a  little  later,  "  I  have  not  congratulated  you 
yet !  "  she  cried. 

"  Do  you  think  I  am  to  be  congratulated  ?  " 

She  perceived  his  lingering  doubt  and  hastened  to 
dispel  its  shadow. 

"  I  was  glad  —  glad !  I  stood  at  the  edge  of  the 
crowd  —  I  couldn't  shout  —  but  I  could  cry.  I  be 
lieve  —  I  am  crying  now  —  please  let  me." 

Tears  of  joy  do  not  last  long. 

The  sun  sank  behind  the  hills,  leaving  a  sky  of  rose 
that  swiftly  changed  to  the  crimson  of  conflict,  a 
prophecy.  The  breeze  died  down.  The  leaves  hung 
motionless  on  the  trees.  Over  the  face  of  the  earth 
rested  the  deep  hush  of  sundown. 

"Listen!" 

She,  too,  in  awe,  thought  she  heard  the  voice  — 
another  prophecy  —  the  eternal  Force,  bringing  forth 
weed  and  flower  and  fruit,  immutable,  ever  victorious. 

THE   END 


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